


always said we'd meet again (someday)

by literocracy



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Underage Drinking, a beta does not exist in this dojo fear does not exist in this dojo, enemies (blink and you miss it) to friends to lovers, justice for the halloween joint, no nerfing daniel won a gd death match, post-KK3 AU, standard language warnings for teen boys in the 80s apply
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 81,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28242315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literocracy/pseuds/literocracy
Summary: Six months after graduation, Johnny's mostly drifting - still figuring out what he wants to do with his life while it seems like everyone else is passing him by on the way to bigger, better things. And now, one year after the night when it all went wrong, he finds himself coming full-circle - at the 1985 All Valley Under 18 Karate Championship.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 162
Kudos: 248





	1. moment of truth

**Author's Note:**

> Behold, the brainworm that wouldn't leave me alone until I sent it to the internet. This is wholesale self-indulgence - I just love thinking and writing about these boys as young'ns. Unedited and really not too serious. And while it doesn't show up this chapter, fair warning that there will definitely be a pretty significant amount of smut later on, just in case that's not your cup of tea.
> 
> Also, standard "these are teen boys from the 80s and talk as such" warnings apply, internalized homophobia and all.
> 
> Furthermore, while I do my very very best to stick to canon established by the movies and to some extent Cobra Kai, my mind is a sieve and I'm sure I've forgotten more than I remember at this point. You really haven't lived until you've lost an hour looking up various neighborhoods in the San Fernando Valley and the distances between them on Google Maps.
> 
> Last thing: for timeline purposes, assume the 1985 All Valley occurs earlier in December than the 1984 edition does, because the KK universe's giant plot hole of a timeline drives me nuts and I can justify Daniel being 18 (with few days to spare) for the championship more easily than I can wrap my head around him being 19 and somehow competing in an under-18 tournament.

Against his better judgment, Johnny Lawrence made the dumbass decision to attend the All Valley Under 18 Karate Championship in 1985. 

Originally, he’d had zero plans to be anywhere within a five mile radius of the event, and furthermore had intended to be drunk off his ass when the time came. But after the bizarro story he’d heard from Tommy, about the DynaTox billionaire who was skulking around the old Cobra Kai dojo with Kreese and, for a time, Daniel fucking LaRusso - well, this he had to see for himself. Curiosity killed the cat, or some bullshit like that.

Clearly whatever Kreese and Silver had tried to do hadn’t stuck. At the tournament, LaRusso was as attached at the hip to the old man as he’d ever been, fidgeting and waiting to face off against the rabid dog that the new and unimproved Cobra Kai had found to replace Johnny. 

But something was off about him. Johnny could remember with eerie clarity everything about that night at the All Valley last year (and, if he was being really honest with himself - the kind of honesty he could usually only manage at a couple Coors deep and counting - everything about all of their encounters leading up to it). In all those times, he’d never seen LaRusso so limp. Defeated. Like a sheet left on the line to dry before getting caught in a downpour.

Even when he’d been at his lowest - rolling around on the mat in agony, limping to the line, half-unconscious and propped in Dutch’s arms - there’d always been a spark. A defiant resolve that recognized that maybe the world was going to beat the shit out of him, but it was going to stare him in the eyes and watch uncomfortably while it happened.

That was gone now. It was almost like an out-of-body experience for Johnny, watching LaRusso - still a scraggly slip of a thing with a mop of dark hair - line up at the mat against the best blonde Cobra Kai had to offer, John Kreese glowering over his shoulder in his stark black gi. 

The only difference (well, besides the fact that Johnny had much better hair) was the newcomer, Silver, with his slick ponytail and sharp, shark-toothed smile. Even from as far away as Johnny had tucked himself (very far away, as far into the shadows as he could get, under a baseball cap for good measure), he could see the icy void in his eyes where a soul should be.

It was enough to thoroughly creep Johnny out, and he wasn’t the one staring down all three of them at once.

The match was...well, Johnny wasn’t always the best with words, but brutal was about the only way to describe it. LaRusso’s opponent - Mike Barnes, they’d said his name was - was playing a game of cat and mouse sicker than even Johnny had been capable of at his worst. 

Johnny could feel the force behind every successful point like it was scored on his own body. And for every point he earned, Barnes seemed to purposely counter with an equally rough bout of illegal contact to have it taken away. 

This wasn’t a tournament bout for a trophy - this was a grudge match, and it looked like the only acceptable prize would be LaRusso’s head.

Johnny felt a little queasy. It was tough to throw him off balance with violence, but this was like sweep the leg on steroids. And unlike last year, it didn’t seem like LaRusso had any answer to the blows other than to just keep taking them. He folded into and under each punch and kick, and if Johnny hadn’t known better - but who else would wear a gi with that stupid tree on the back? - he’d have thought he was watching an entirely different person. 

The whistle blew, signaling the break before the sudden death round (a bizarre and unnecessary addition to the proceedings, if you asked Johnny). LaRusso was still hunched on the mat, head bowed and shaking as he conferred with the old man. It looked like he wanted to give up, and it was as mystifying to Johnny as it was irritating. Had he really been less of a challenge than that second-rate meathead with a bad buzz cut?

He watched with morbid fascination as Barnes bent over LaRusso, wielding insults as brutally as he’d dealt his fists, a barrage of vitriol that Johnny couldn’t quite make out over the crowd noise but could imagine just fine for himself.

Finally - finally! - that (combined with whatever the old man had said to him during the break) seemed to do it for LaRusso, and Johnny watched him harden with scrappy resolve - the kind that ended up turning into the last thing his opponents saw before taking a crane kick to the face.

Johnny sat up in his seat with renewed interest as LaRusso, with some of the fire back in his stance, moved into his kata. It was a weird strategy for sure, but it seemed to work. Barnes didn’t look like he knew what to do with what was happening in front of him, and Silver and Kreese had started shouting and gesticulating wildly, furiously. 

Well, that was the price you paid for playing with your food, Johnny thought with some satisfaction. That had been a lesson he’d learned early - and painfully.

For as much fuckery as there’d been throughout the match, it was over in seconds. Barnes lunged forward into an attack and in one sure motion, LaRusso flipped him and nailed him with a fist to the chest that Johnny felt reverberate through his cheek, nose, and forehead. Match point.

The arena erupted as LaRusso bounced over to his mentor, hugging him and grabbing his fist to pull it into the air. Johnny thought that was a bit much - it hadn’t been the old man at the mat, had it? (Though from personal experience, he knew the ordeal wouldn't have gone on nearly as long if it had.) And the victory had been a fluke more than anything.

Johnny wasn’t really certain what to make of it, to be honest. He had no love for Kreese, that was for sure, and he knew nothing about Silver save for that he was filthy rich and dressed like a vampire. The less said about Barnes, the better. So it didn’t really hurt to watch them take one on the chin.

With LaRusso, it was a little more complicated. They hadn’t shared much more than an awkward nod or two in passing after last year’s All Valley. LaRusso had spent the remainder of the school year as Ali’s shadow, with seemingly few friends to call his own (and Johnny acknowledged, with some guilt, that he MAY have had a hand in that). They weren’t friends, could hardly even be called acquaintances, and Johnny couldn’t pretend he wasn’t still a little sore about that tournament loss.

But on his most introspective nights, Johnny couldn’t help but wonder what stung more - the loss, or the look in LaRusso’s wide brown eyes as he’d stared him down before the final point. A look like Johnny was the physical embodiment of every one of his nightmares, and that he was going to fight him or die trying - no matter how terrified he was, no matter how much punishment his body took.

Anyway, Johnny guessed he was glad enough that LaRusso had won. There had been something sinister in the way Kreese and Silver had gone after him, and at least now Johnny had the satisfaction of knowing that Cobra Kai’s losing streak wouldn’t end with him, facedown on a mat that smelled like sweat and feet.

Johnny stood to leave, already running late to meet with Bobby. Before heading out, he took another sweeping glance at the floor below. LaRusso was still down there, but it was like all the air had been sucked out of him after the initial high of the victory. He was leaning pretty heavily on the old man, and he looked beat to hell and exhausted even from Johnny’s vantage point. He was smiling at his well-wishers, but it seemed hollow.

Much to his surprise, Johnny found himself wondering about the story behind LaRusso’s participation in the tournament this year - found himself wanting to know how the hell Kreese, Silver, and the rumors that LaRusso’d been seen hanging around - for a time - the old Cobra Kai dojo all fit together.

Shrugging it off, he headed out into the cool night.

*****

“So I watched the tournament,” Johnny said, apropos of nothing, slouched low on the beat up couch in Bobby’s parents’ basement, Coors bottle dangling from his hand. He stared resolutely at the framed commemorative Lakers poster hanging on the wall as some shit Culture Club song played over the radio.

“Yeah?” Bobby asked, turning his head to look at Johnny but giving nothing away in his facial expression.

It had ended up being a good night, tournament oddness notwithstanding. With everyone scattered now, off to college and jobs and study abroad (and, in Dutch's case, juvie), it was getting harder and harder to get the ex-Cobras together, even one-on-one. Johnny never fully registered how much he missed having them there all the time until they were sitting around like old times again, reminiscing and drinking and giving each other shit.

Especially Bobby - calm, intuitive, empathetic Bobby, who’d always been a better person than the rest of them combined.

“Yeah. I heard Kreese was gonna be there with the new Cobra Kai, and I guess I had to see it for myself.”

“LaRusso too, I heard,” Bobby said blandly, not looking at Johnny. Johnny winced. He hadn’t realized Bobby had stayed plugged into the scene. “How was it?”

“Fine.” Johnny paused for a beat. “Weird. LaRusso won again.” No sense in beating around the bush.

“Good for him,” Bobby said with sincerity, taking a swig of his own beer. “He probably deserved another one after all the shit we pulled.”

“I guess.” Johnny shifted uncomfortably. “Even though that new rule where the defending champion gets a bye is bogus." Bobby made a noise of agreement. "It was just weird.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that, Johnny. Something on your mind?”

Johnny rolled his eyes.

“It just felt like - I dunno - remember what a little shit LaRusso was? Like how he just wouldn’t fucking quit, no matter what we dished out at him?” 

“Yeah, I do.” Bobby replied drily. “You tend to remember the moments when you think you’re going to be arrested for attempted murder. Or actual murder.”

Ouch. Match point Bobby. It stung mainly because it was true - Johnny had passed more than a few sleepless nights wondering what the outcome of the night of the Halloween dance would have been if the old man hadn’t intervened to kick their asses when he did. 

“Look, I don’t feel great about that night either, okay?” Johnny finally admitted. “It was real messed up, and I’m sorry I couldn’t get a grip in time to see that.” Bobby slapped his shoulder amicably, accepting the olive branch.

“Anyway,” Johnny continued, “My point is - no matter what we did, he never took it lying down, even if the only thing he could do was run off at the mouth. But tonight, Cobra Kai brought this Mike Barnes kid up - a real psychopath, worse than Dutch maybe - and it was like, he could’ve won at any time. He was kicking LaRusso’s ass around the mat, and LaRusso was just taking it, like he didn’t care. Like he didn’t even want to be there. The only reason he won was basically a miracle point during the sudden death round - another total bullshit rule, by the way,” he groused.

“I mean, so what?” Bobby shrugged. “A win’s a win, right? Not like it matters for us anymore.”

“Yeah but…” Johnny chewed his lip. “Was one wannabe with a bad buzzcut really harder to beat than the whole Cobra Kai dojo?” _Than me?_

Bobby slapped him on the shoulder again, fake consoling.

“Don’t worry Johnny, I’m sure you’re still LaRusso’s number one karate rival in his heart,” he guffawed.

Johnny scowled and threw a halfhearted elbow at him.

“Shaddup, that’s not what I’m saying.” Truthfully, he didn’t really know what he was saying, only that it had been bothering him just the same.

Bobby settled back, took another sip and seemed to be considering something.

“You know, I saw Daniel a few weeks ago, over Thanksgiving break,” he finally said.

Johnny could only credit years of karate training and tightly honed reflexes for the fact that he didn’t upend his beer right there.

“Excuse me?” he sputtered. “LaRusso? Why?”

Bobby peeled at the label of his bottle, visibly embarrassed.

“I felt like I had to. It’s - what we did - it’s been on my mind a lot lately. It wasn’t right, none of it. I wanted to apologize. For real, this time.”

Well. That was a surprise. Johnny knew that what Kreese had demanded of them had weighed most heavily on Bobby - especially that first day back after winter break, when LaRusso had hobbled into first period on crutches, leg strapped into a bulky brace. But he’d never realized how deep everything else went, too.

Then again, Bobby WAS aiming to go to priest school or whatever. Maybe he had to square up with the universe as part of some 12-step program from Jesus.

“And…?” Johnny drew out the last consonant. Bobby shrugged.

“It was okay. He was nice enough about it. But he was definitely different. Almost…” Bobby smiled into his beer, “...weird.”

He choked on his next sip as Johnny delivered a vintage Cobra jab to his arm.

“Jeez, Johnny!” 

Bobby wiped fruitlessly with his hands at the new wet spot on his shirt, glaring at Johnny. “I’m just saying, you’re right, he wasn’t the same little smart-mouthed punk who hosed you down on Halloween. He was different. Kinda jittery, honestly. Just thought it was interesting, what with how you described the tournament.”

Johnny had to admit, it was a little bit of a puzzle. One of those thousand-piece ones, except he only had a shit-ton of center pieces and no edges to work from.

Or maybe the puzzle was that he even gave a crap about anything to do with LaRusso in the first place.

Either way, he wasn’t about to admit that he was even a little interested in what was making LaRusso tick - least of all to Bobby, who could be as smug and sanctimonious as he was kind.

“Anyways, it was wild.” Apparently Bobby had no interest in giving the subject up quite yet. “Did you know he’s working with his sensei selling tiny trees in Reseda? I shit you not. I’ve never seen trees so damn small.”

Johnny grunted noncommittally, taking a large gulp of his warming beer. Nothing to say, nothing to see.

Bobby gave him a little bit of a stink eye at his stubborn silence.

“All I’m saying is that if someone _were_ so disinterested in their high school karate rival that they purposely went to watch them fight in a tournament - “ _Hang on, that was NOT what Johnny had done!_ “- they might _also_ want to know where that rival is spending most of his time these days. So they could continue totally ignoring him,” he smirked.

Johnny sank further into the couch. Sometimes, he really fucking hated Bobby Brown.

“Yeah, right,” Johnny snorted. “What the fuck would I ever be doing in Reseda?”

*****

One week later, Johnny found himself driving through fucking Reseda, past the ramshackle pile of clapboard that was apparently Mr. Miyagi’s Little Trees. Goddamn Bobby Brown.

If anyone asked, Johnny would never admit outright to thinking that some of those frigging trees were pretty cute. Small and skinny and yet surprisingly sturdy looking, _almost like_ \- oh, well, fuck that train of thought and the horse it rode in on.

Johnny really wished he’d thought to shotgun a beer or something before hopping into his car in an uncharacteristic fit of mad resolve.

What should you even say to your high school nemesis after a year of relative silence? _“Sorry I pushed you down a hill. Sorry I tried to land a flying kick to your head. Sorry I could have fucked up your knee for life on the orders of my batshit sensei.”_

Yeeeeah. Little wonder why apologies were never really Johnny’s strong suit.

Parked as he was just down the street, Johnny had a fairly clear view of the storefront without feeling too conspicuous himself. Was it technically spying? Maybe. But until Johnny could rediscover the bravado that had had him hopping into his car in the first place, staring like a creep at the building facade was about the best he could do.

It had only been a few days since Bobby had slipped LaRusso’s new place of employment into their conversation, but the knowledge had prickled at Johnny like a mosquito bite that he couldn’t reach to scratch. He’d tried hard to ignore it, but ever since he’d made the boneheaded decision to check out the All Valley, it was like the lock had blown open the lock on the mental box where he’d shut away LaRusso, Ali, and the whole first half of senior year.

Johnny didn’t even really know what he wanted out of whatever the hell it was he was doing, but he knew he probably wasn’t going to get it idling in the Avanti, top up, hiding behind his sunglasses and sinking as low into the driver’s seat as he could go.

He’d just about decided that today was not the day for whatever spiritual crusade the better angels of his nature had decided to drag him out on when a tap on the window decided it for him.

“Hey, ‘scuse me.” Fuck. Shit. Goddamn. He’d know that little Jersey rat drawl anywhere. “Listen, man, I’m not trying to start trouble but you’re not really supposed to be parked here.”

Just his fucking luck. Not only had he gotten caught out by LaRusso, but he’d been caught out in a no parking zone. And of fucking course LaRusso would notice - and care about - some banal shit like that.

With a huff, Johnny rolled down his window and tore off his sunglasses to get the closest look he’d had at LaRusso in six months. It was almost - almost - worth being discovered just to watch the other boy damn near swallow his tongue mid-babble when he got a look at Johnny’s face.

“Look, I honestly don’t care where you park but they’ve been ticketing like crazy around here lately and all you have to do is move - Johnny Lawrence??” he yelped. “The hell are you doing here?”

God, he’d forgotten how goddamn annoying the kid could be. Like a yappy dog, just begging to be kicked.

“LaRusso,” Johnny drawled, adopting a casual, unaffected air. He hoped it was working. “Long time no see.”

LaRusso scowled. It was awful and contrary to everything Johnny’d come here for, but witnessing the other boy’s rising ire was helping Johnny rediscover his footing.

“Some might say not long enough. I repeat - what the hell are you doing here, Johnny?”

“It’s a free country, ain’t it? And this is a public roadway.” Johnny smirked, a tiny little quirk of the lips that he had on good authority was as attractive as it was annoying. Not that that was the point. 

In return, LaRusso’s own mouth thinned and turned down even further at the corners. Johnny found he didn’t much like that. How irritating.

“You gotta be kidding me - yeah, a public roadway that just happens to be in front of the shop Mr. Miyagi and I run. When was the last time you were caught dead in Reseda, Lawrence?”

“Word on the street’s that this is the only place in the whole state of California I can find tiny trees.” Johnny probably didn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt at this point, but he really hadn’t meant anything beyond lighthearted snark with the comment. However, something about it tripped an exposed nerve in LaRusso and he reddened with anger.

“Yeah, well, too bad our stock’s in pretty short supply right now on account of your little Cobra Kai buddies. Come to gloat?”

Yikes. Clearly whatever Kreese and company had done had gone way further than some underhanded tournament fuckery. Johnny raised his hands in supplication.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. I haven’t had shit to do with Cobra Kai since the last tournament when, as you may recall, Kreese choked me out in the parking lot. Whatever they did, I had nothing to do with it, I swear. I come in peace, LaRusso.”

That seemed to lower the other boy’s hackles a bit, and he stepped back, staring at Johnny with those unnerving wide eyes. Johnny stared right back, level and sure. He might’ve accrued a large bank of frequent fuck up miles over the years, but whatever incident had LaRusso's dander up wasn’t on his list of sins.

The moment of quiet gave him a chance to get a better look at LaRusso. It had only been six months since they’d seen each other at graduation, and while the other boy still looked all of sixteen in the face (which was clearly still recovering from some of the harder blows from the All Valley), he seemed much older in other ways. There was a more mature set to his jaw and shoulders, and his eyes looked wiser than they had when they’d stared at Johnny from across the mat a year ago, huge and terrified and shockingly young. 

There was an edge there, too - and unbidden, Johnny recalled Bobby’s comment that LaRusso had seemed jittery when he’d come to see him.

Plus, while he was still a slender little thing, there was no denying he’d filled out some - a little more limber muscle laid over sharp, pointy joints. It...was not an awful look. Johnny swiftly tucked that thought away, to be examined after the first of never.

After a moment, LaRusso’s shoulders dropped and the cut of his mouth relaxed. He still didn’t look like he completely trusted Johnny - and even Johnny had to admit that was probably merited - but he also didn’t look like he was about to deliver a crane kick to his throat just for looking at him the wrong way.

“Okay, yeah, alright. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed - I know what your sensei did to you.”

“ _Ex_ -sensei,” Johnny snapped back, still a little touchier about the subject than he wanted to be. 

Finally, LaRusso’s lips quirked up into a tiny little smile - tinier even than the trees on his ramshackle lot, but it was there.

“Ex-sensei, right.” He bounced on his toes and put his hands in his pockets. “So, since we’ve established you’re not here for another round of Cobra Kai revenge served cold, why exactly _are_ you here? You don’t strike me as having an especially green thumb.”

That was a _great_ question, and not one that Johnny had an answer for, exactly, so he deflected.

“What, am I not allowed to take in the sights along scenic Sherman Way?” Johnny asked. “I love...” he squinted, taking in the surrounding buildings “...pottery.”

LaRusso looked unimpressed. Johnny relented.

“Okay, fine,” he said. “I was talking to Bobby a few days ago, and he said he’d come to see you. Said you were selling these baby trees and to be honest, it sounded so nuts I had to see it for myself.” 

It was a half truth, but true enough that Johnny didn’t feel like he was lying as he said it.

The other boy still looked a little skeptical, but seemed to accept the explanation at face value.

“First of all, they’re called bonsai. Bonsai, Johnny. Not baby trees. They’re not babies, they’re cultivated.” Johnny didn’t bother suppressing his eye roll. “Second...yeah. Bobby did come by. He didn’t get us at the best time, though. We had...run into some bad luck.” 

LaRusso didn’t elaborate, and Johnny didn’t really feel comfortable pressing for details. “But it was pretty nice of him to stop in. He had some things he wanted to get off his chest.”

This time, Johnny did suppress his wince. Understatement of the year.

“Yeah. Bobby always was nicer than the rest of us. He never felt too good about it, everything we did. Everything we did to you,” Johnny said. His throat felt tight, and he could barely think about what he wanted to say next, let alone actually get it out. “I guess I don’t feel too good about it either, now.” There.

He fidgeted, acutely aware of the fact that he was still in the car and could, if he so desired, floor it right now, speeding away from the shop, Reseda, and the small slip of an Italian boy presently staring at him in dumb, silent shock. Maybe it was just Johnny’s guilty imagination in overdrive, but it looked like LaRusso had shifted all his weight to his right leg, perhaps recalling how the other had taken the crushing force of Bobby’s foot and then Johnny’s elbow over bone and muscle and cartilage.

Finally, LaRusso spoke.

“Okay, well, that’s...okay.” He still seemed a little awestruck. “Is that...an apology? From King Karate Johnny Lawrence himself?”

Johnny’s face felt hot.

“Closest thing you’re going to get,” he grumbled. LaRusso still didn’t seem to know what to say, and Johnny couldn’t seem to stop talking. “But you do still owe me for that joint you trashed on Halloween.”

It was Daniel’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Oh sorry, did chasing me across a field and kicking me into a fence not give you enough of a natural high?” he sniped.

Johnny sucked his teeth. Still a little shit. Before the most sincere moment they’d ever shared could devolve into Johnny vs. Daniel round XXIIV, a call came from inside the shop.

“Daniel-san! You take out trash, or go for swim in river?”

It was Daniel’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Just a minute, Mr. Miyagi!” he shouted back, rolling his shoulders. He looked back at Johnny. “Well, you came all the way to Reseda just to look at tiny trees. You want the grand tour?” he asked, walking backward toward the steps to the shop. 

Surprised at the rather magnanimous invitation, Johnny shrugged. He had nowhere else to be. As soon as he’d locked the car and made it halfway across the street toward the store, Daniel stopped mid-trot up the steps and looked over his shoulder.

“Oh, by the way, your car’s still in the no parking zone. You’re gonna have to move up like 10 feet.” Then he cackled and disappeared into the shop.

Johnny cursed and wondered if, just this once, it would be okay to attempt one more flying kick at LaRusso’s head.

*****

After moving his car, Johnny jogged up the steps and poked his head into the shop.

“LaRusso?” he called, entering fully. He heard muffled voices in the back, but couldn’t see anyone. All he could see was table after table of tiny little trees in different shapes and colors and sizes (from tiny to tinier). Dammit. They _were_ cute.

He took the opportunity to snoop a little more. The shop had clearly seen better days overall, but it looked like it had taken on some recent damage, too - busted windows that had been taped over, pieces of a broken screen that appeared to be mid-repair. Between Bobby’s comment about how on edge LaRusso had been, the other boy’s own comment about running into bad luck, and his overall defensiveness about Cobra Kai, the puzzle pieces were slowly slotting into place, and they weren’t necessarily building a picture that Johnny liked.

He’d known Kreese was fucked in the head - who chokes a teenager in a parking lot full of witnesses? - but if this was all his doing, it seemed like a bit much. Had Johnny really missed the signs that his sensei was a total sociopath so completely? And if so, what did that say about Johnny as a person?

He was interrupted from these unpleasant musings as LaRusso stepped back inside the shop from the back lot.

“Hey!” he said cheerfully enough. “Sorry to keep you waiting, sometimes Mr. Miyagi and I have differences of opinion on, um, potting.” As he spoke, the old man entered the room in that placid, quiet way he had, cradling a bonsai that looked a little worse for wear. 

While Johnny seriously doubted there was anything LaRusso knew about potting that his sensei didn’t, he didn’t challenge the statement - mainly because he figured they might have actually been arguing about _him_.

Miyagi stared for a long moment at Johnny. It felt like he was measuring him, and Johnny was irritated to find himself hoping the old man found something worth his time. Finally, he nodded.

“Welcome, Johnny-san. Daniel-san show you around.”

Johnny bowed his head, just slightly, his eyes never leaving Miyagi’s.

“Hi. Thanks. I, uh, I never got a chance to thank you for the other thing. You know. Last year. You...you didn't have to step in like that, not after everything that happened.”

Maybe he was just imagining it, but Miyagi seemed faintly more approving.

“Same as I tell Daniel-san - no such thing as bad student, only bad teacher.” He bowed slightly in return, and then returned his attention to the bonsai in his hands, disappearing into the back corner with it. Johnny felt inordinately relieved that the encounter was over and that he hadn’t been kicked in the balls again.

He turned his focus back to LaRusso, who was bouncing anxiously on his feet.

“Right, I promised you the grand tour,” LaRusso said. He took a few steps into the center of the room and huffed out a laugh, spreading his arms wide and turning in a large circle, gesturing at the tables filled with bonsai. “Okay, so, this concludes our tour.”

Johnny bit back a genuine smile, charmed in spite of his overwhelming desire not to be.

“You should take that little one-man-show on the road, LaRusso, you might get more customers that way.”

“Ha ha. What a wiseguy," LaRusso said drily. "It takes time for any new business to get off the ground, Johnny." He paused. "Besides, I'm not really much of a solo act." 

Before Johnny could say anything in response to that oddly bitter little aside, LaRusso had switched subjects with lightning speed. “So whaddya think?” he asked sardoincally. “Little trees everything you thought they’d be?”

“You know, they’re not what I expected, but they’re alright, LaRusso.”

If his reluctantly pleased smile was anything to go by, the other boy had caught the double meaning in what Johnny had said. No question that Johnny was going to absolutely ignore the way his heart started beating in double time as a result.

(But if this was what it felt like to make LaRusso smile, he thinks he should have tried this instead of multiple attempts to rearrange his face AGES ago - and not just because it was actually a pretty good face. Not that Johnny’d noticed, or anything.)

“You know…” LaRusso looked like he was in two minds about what he was going to say next. “I do have a first name.” The invitation was left dangling, and implicit.

It hadn’t ever even occurred to Johnny that that was an option. He’d been LaRusso for so long that, honest to god, Johnny sometimes forgot he had a first name at all. 

Daniel. He tested it in his head first, stretching out each letter. Daniel. It was nice. Soft in a way his last name wasn’t. It felt oddly intimate and uncomfortable to start using it after all this time. 

“I guess I could try...Daniel.” The words felt weird on his tongue. “Might take some getting used to.”

The lingering wariness in LaRuss...Daniel’s face evaporated, and his smile brightened. Then, it turned sly.

“Listen, if you want to try a little harder, maybe I can talk you into a bonsai of your own? This isn’t a museum Johnny; the idea is to sell things, and you already got the free show.”

Johnny surveys the shop dubiously, unsure where to even start.

“Do I look like a tree nerd to you, LaRusso? I’ve had all of one plant in my life. It was made of wax, and I think I still managed to kill it.”

“No time like the present to turn over a new leaf!” Daniel seemed delighted by his own incredibly bad joke. “Besides, it doesn’t have to be for you. It’s the holidays, and bonsai make great presents!” 

Johnny seriously doubted that, but what could he say? LaRusso’s enthusiasm for these little stunted shrubs was kinda infectious, and Johnny _was_ \- sort of - trying to turn over a new leaf. So to speak.

“Well, maybe I could get one for my mom. She likes plants.” Lie. She was even worse with greenery than Johnny was. Johnny was pretty sure even their Christmas trees had withered prematurely in her presence. 

But Daniel looked so hopeful, and he _had_ been generous enough to take time out of his afternoon (empty as the shop was) to entertain Johnny’s uniquely unapologetic version of contrition. “How do I pick one?” Johnny asked.

Daniel stared at him solemnly. “Close your eyes and listen carefully to their voices. You don’t choose the bonsai, the bonsai chooses you.”

Johnny stared right back. Looked down at the trees. Looked back at Daniel.

“Are...are you for real?”

Daniel covered his smile with his hand.

“No, you dope. They’re just trees, it’s not that complicated. Take a look around and pick whatever you think your mom’ll like best.”

And that’s how Johnny got snookered into returning to his apartment with a reedy, scraggly little tree riding shotgun.

 _“That one?” Daniel had asked flatly, after Johnny had finally made his selection. The tree HAD perhaps seen better days, but Johnny was endeared by its scrappiness. “You want to give_ **_that_ ** _tree as a gift?”_

_“What? It’s badass,” Johnny said, holding it closer to himself, offended on behalf of the tree. Daniel raised an eyebrow._

_“For your mother, huh?”_

_Johnny refused to dignify that with an answer._

*****

It was late by the time Johnny got back to his apartment, an okay little studio at the edge of Encino. 

Due in no small part to his mother’s intervention, Sid had miraculously agreed to float Johnny for a few months while he figured out what to do with his life. While Johnny was pretty sure patience was running thin on that end (mediocre grades and a disciplinary rap sheet a mile long meant his university options were limited, and the commitment to four more years studying didn’t really thrill him), for the moment he was taking advantage of the opportunity to live alone in moderate style. 

If anything, Johnny figured that Sid probably thought it was well worth the investment just to be rid of Johnny semi-permanently. Plus, while his stepfather was an enormous asshole more often than not, it was to his credit that he was smart enough to at least understand that the optics of letting Johnny languish in a slummy one bedroom in Reseda wouldn’t have been too great. 

Besides, while rent was taken care of, Johnny was still on his own for the other bills. That was the deal they’d struck. Luckily, Bobby’s dad had set him up with a pretty okay gig doing landscaping and home remodeling for a business run by a friend of the family. Was Johnny under any illusions that it was his true calling in life? No, but it kept him afloat (and fit) while he made little to no progress figuring out what exactly his dream _was_.

Right now, concerns about the future were far from his mind as he stared at his new bonsai, mystified. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with it. LaRusso had started rattling off presumably important care and feeding instructions, but honestly, as soon as he’d started talking Johnny’s eyes had glazed over.

He would’ve binned it, but that small ass tree had been expensive as shit, costing him a pretty good chunk of the money he’d been planning to put toward half an ounce to get him through the impending holidays.

Not exactly the green he’d been envisioning, Johnny thought mournfully.

But...well...it _was_ kind of badass.

There was all of one window in his apartment, so he carefully set the tree in its little glazed pot on the sill. There - trees liked light, right? He admired the sight, congratulating himself. This wasn’t so hard after all.

Ten days later, of course, the tree was dying, many of its leaves gone crisp and curled and brown and falling off at an alarming rate.

Johnny was maybe unreasonably upset about this; it was just a tree, and a pretty overpriced one since it could apparently just die without warning. 

But, if Johnny were superstitious, he might think the tree was a representation of Johnny’s foray into adulthood thus far - and, well, the early returns weren’t promising. Good thing Johnny wasn’t superstitious.

At least, that’s what he told himself as he bundled the tree into the passenger seat of his car and, yet again, headed into Reseda. Not superstitious at all. He just hated to waste the cash.

(Lie. He’d once literally set fire to a twenty dollar bill on a dare from Dutch just to prove - what, that money didn’t matter? That his stepfather had more than he knew what to do with and not much beyond that? God, what a little asshole he’d been.)

This time, when he drove up to the shop and parked (in the right zone, thanks very much), Daniel was already outside doing god knows what - rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, probably. He did a double take when he saw Johnny come up the steps with his tree, pot wrapped in his old Cobra Kai jacket. (Johnny wasn’t really sure if plants could get cold, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Sue him.)

Before Daniel could say word one, Johnny had thrust the bonsai in his face.

“LaRusso, you sold me a defective shrub. Look at it, it’s broken.”

Daniel’s stupid Bambi eyes widened even further, then he looked down and frowned at the listless, yellowing little bonsai, a clear anomaly compared to the other thriving trees by which they were surrounded.

“Have you watered it...at all?”

“Yes!” Johnny nodded insistently. “Once a week, just like you said.”

Daniel goggled at him.

“Johnny, I said water it once a day. Once a _day._ ” He put his hands on his hips, hackles up and prissy as shit. It was, unfortunately, not unattractive. “Of course it’s dying - what would happen to you if you only had water once a week?!”

Johnny flushed. Maybe he should have paid better attention to the instructions as LaRusso was giving them, but honestly - trees grew just fine on their own all the time, why should this one be any different?

“Whatever. I told you I was bad at this plant crap but you made me buy it anyway. So it’s your fault and now you have to fix it.”

Daniel huffed out an extremely long-suffering sigh that was - in Johnny’s humble opinion - completely unwarranted, considering it was the middle of the day and the shop did not appear to have expanded its customer base significantly since the last time Johnny had stopped in.

“Fine. Okay.” LaRusso nodded. “Come inside. Mr. Miyagi will know what to do to help, he’s fixed up bonsai way worse off than this one before,” he said with a rueful smile that Johnny didn’t quite know how to interpret. 

Johnny followed him into the store, which was actually looking much better than it had the last time he’d been in. Someone had put up a fresh coat of paint that made it look much brighter inside, and they’d fixed the broken window. An assortment of knick-knacks now dotted the shelves amid the bonsai. It was almost homey.

“Hey, it looks nice in here,” Johnny remarked, taking it all in.

“You mean less like a shithole?” Daniel stated more than asked, amused. “Yeah, once my ribs healed up enough Mr. Miyagi and I spent a weekend painting and making some much needed repairs.” He said this almost absently, then froze when he realized he might have let slip more than he’d meant to.

Johnny shifted uncomfortably, realizing that Daniel didn’t actually know he’d seen him fight at the All Valley a few weeks ago.

“Your ribs?” he asked carefully, wondering what LaRusso would say. After a long moment, Daniel seemed to decide something, and he nodded.

“Yeah, from the All Valley this year,” he admitted, watching Johnny closely to see how he’d react. “It got a little out of hand. You heard about it?”

“Heard you won again,” Johnny said evenly. “Congratulations?” He gave himself a pat on the back for getting that out without choking on the word.

Daniel laughed, and it was bitter in the same way Johnny had noticed on his last visit.

“In a manner of speaking, I guess. But I’m really just glad it’s over. Besides,” he elbowed Johnny, “after kicking King Cobra’s ass in my first tournament, there was really nowhere to go but down.”

“With an illegal crane kick!” Johnny protested, an argument he’d had with too many people to count over the past year. Daniel waved it off.

“Anytime you want a repeat performance, Lawrence, you know where to find me.” 

Johnny knew he was joking...but it wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever heard. Though he’d tried to keep up with his karate since leaving Cobra Kai, it was tough without regular access to a dojo and sparring partners. 

Then again, LaRusso had obviously stuck with it, and the idea that he might actually beat him again just because Johnny had gone a little soft was too much to bear.

Oblivious to Johnny’s inner angst, Daniel turned his attention away and into the shop. 

“Mr. Miyagi?” he called. “You in here? Got a bonsai that could use some of your mojo.”

Miyagi stepped in from the back yard, wiping his hands. He looked surprised to see Johnny.

“Johnny-san? Back so soon?” Johnny stepped forward, and held the pot out. Somehow, the withering tree looked even more pathetic under Miyagi’s considering eye.

“Yeah, um...I’m not sure what happened to it,” Johnny mumbled, looking down. “The care and feeding instructions weren’t too clear.” Daniel gave him a vicious side eye. 

Miyagi looked at him for a long moment, leaving Johnny to wonder how long exactly he would need to study karate to develop the sort of X-ray vision the old man seemed to have.

“Send Johnny-san home with manual next time,” he finally said. “Come - if tree can be fixed, Miyagi will take care of it.” He gently picked up the pot from the nest of Johnny’s jacket (giving the jacket itself a very brief, unreadable second look) and took it over to one of the emptier tables near the back. He studied the tree carefully, cradling the leaves and branches and combing through the soil.

Johnny had just started wondering if maybe the old man and the tree needed some time alone together when he spoke once again.

“Come back one week. Bonsai will be ready then. With instruction.” He leveled a look at Johnny over his glasses and Johnny knew that however many pages of directions there were, he’d be following them to the letter.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen. 

He let LaRusso lead him out after that, into the fading mid-afternoon sunlight.

“I wouldn’t worry about the tree. Mr. Miyagi has a real knack for lost causes.” Daniel looked down. “It’s come in handy more than a few times.”

Johnny wasn’t sure what to say to that. He was a little uncomfortable with the level of self-deprecation he’d detected in the statement, but he and LaRusso weren’t really friends, so Johnny didn’t question it.

“Thanks,” he finally said. “I’ll be back in a week for the tree. See you then?” Weak. So weak. But at least it got Johnny out of saying something nice.

“Yep,” Daniel said, rocking back on his feet. “Well, actually no - I won’t be in town. My ma’s been in Jersey the last couple months helping out my uncle, he’s real sick, so I’m gonna visit now that most of the shop repairs are out of the way. Spend the holidays there, y’know.” He trailed off. “But maybe I’ll see you around sometime. If you ever have another bonsai emergency.” LaRusso smiled a little, ducked his head and disappeared back into the store.

Johnny very deliberately chose not to examine why he was suddenly feeling a little let down.

  
  



	2. dancing in the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I cannot thank you all enough for the lovely comments and kudos - it was very gratifying, as I've been out of the game for a VERY long time and publishing anything is always a recipe for instant anxiety.
> 
> Here is the next (long) installment. I considered breaking it up into two parts, but decided I prefer it as a whole piece. I do introduce an original character, which makes me nervous, as I don't personally care for them. However, it ended up feeling necessary to the plot, and he won't factor in hugely from chapter to chapter (plus, his name is a CK callback!). Also - finding Miyagi's voice was a real struggle (the line between realism and caricature is fine, and he has such a dry, quirky sense of humor!), so major kudos to anyone who can write him and write him well.
> 
> Usual warnings for unbeta'd, language, etc. apply, plus it does get a little spicy at the end. Also warning I guess for probably taking a lot of liberties w/r/t how the landscaping business works.

* * *

A week later, as promised - just a few days after Christmas - Johnny once again found himself parked in front of Mr. Miyagi’s Little Trees. This was getting to be way too regular an occurrence.

He was strangely apprehensive - he’d never been alone with the old man before, and the last two times they’d been within five feet of each other, he’d either been kicking Johnny’s ass or making a fool of his ex-sensei. In neither case had he had to exchange actual words with the elderly karate master, and he couldn’t say he was looking forward to it now, without the buffer of LaRusso (for whatever that was worth).

However, Johnny hadn’t gotten this far by being a pussy, and he wasn’t about to start now. Maybe there would be other customers and he could make it a quick five minutes, in and out. 

He looked around the practically deserted street. Fat chance of that.

Hesitantly, he poked his head into the small store. Empty - not an elderly sensei in sight. He ventured further inside, eyeing the little twinkling lights that had been strung up since the last time he’d been in, idly wondering if that had been LaRusso’s handiwork. Johnny had a hard time picturing Miyagi as especially festive about the season.

Rocking back on his heels, he waited a moment before noticing the bell sitting on the counter. Before he could think about it, he’d tapped it, wincing at the surprisingly loud trill as it echoed throughout the shop.

“Ah, Johnny-san!” The old man trundled in from the back, looking surprisingly pleased to see him. “Have been expecting you. Bonsai looking very good.”

“Yeah?” Johnny said, shifting from foot to foot, feeling weirdly embarrassed. “Uh, thanks for bringing it back to life. I’ll try to keep it that way this time.”

Miyagi leveled a measuring look at him over his glasses. 

“Do or do not. No try.”

Johnny blinked at him.

“Did you...did you just quote _Star Wars_ at me?” he asked dumbly.

“Daniel-san make Miyagi watch.” Of course he did. “Han Solo...not too bad.” 

Johnny suppressed a smirk. Han Solo was not the character he’d imagined the old man taking to, but it made a weird sort of sense. As much as anything about this conversation could be characterized as making sense.

Mr. Miyagi set Johnny’s revitalized bonsai on the counter in front of him - hey, it _was_ looking much better! - and added a small pair of pruning shears and a few papers to the pile.

“These help Johnny-san with bonsai,” he said kindly. “Tool and direction.”

There were quite a few more directions than Johnny had anticipated, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Thanks. How much do I owe you for these scissor things?” Miyagi waved him off.

“No charge.” Johnny frowned. That didn’t seem right. Johnny wasn’t necessarily thrilled about the idea of spending more money on this plant he hadn’t even wanted in the first place, but he wasn’t a mooch, and the old man _had_ rehabbed it on the house after he’d nearly killed it.

“Hey, look, you don’t have to give them to me for free, you’ve got a business to run.”

“Ah ah.” Miyagi tapped the counter. “Not free. Not quite. Miyagi have favor to ask.”

A favor? What could the old man possibly want from Johnny, of all people?

“Okay,” he said slowly. “And that is…?”

“Have to do with karate.” Johnny started. “Daniel-san need partner to spar. With Miyagi, can only go so far. Need other person for better balance.”

“And you...want that person to be me?” Johnny was a little lost. This had not been what he was expecting at all.

“Yes.”

“You know we have, like, opposite styles, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you _know_ we’re not friends, right? Like, at all.” Mr. Miyagi was beginning to look impatient, now, giving a sharp nod.

“Miyagi familiar with...relationship of Daniel-san and Johnny-san.”

Johnny didn’t love that particular turn of phrase - it was hardly a _relationship,_ they’d barely had two civil conversations after a year of ignoring each other after three months of all-out hostilities - but that wasn’t really the point he was interested in quibbling over at the moment.

“Then why the hell would you think this is a good idea?” Miyagi busied himself with wrapping the little clippers.

“Daniel-san have some...bad experience with karate.” He seemed conflicted about sharing this information. “Not Miyagi’s story. But need opponent besides Miyagi to trust. Need trust in karate again. Restore trust, restore focus, restore balance.”

Interesting. Johnny remembered then that neither Miyagi nor Daniel knew that he’d seen the most recent All Valley in person (and wouldn’t find out, if he had his way about it - he had some dignity left). So he guessed he did have a little context for what the old man had so far only vaguely alluded to. Still...

“You...think you can trust me?” Skepticism, thy name is Johnny Lawrence.

“Was not too sure. But - ” and now he handed Johnny the bundle of his restored bonsai and tools, “Johnny-san respect bonsai. In Miyagi’s eyes, you not all bad.” Johnny wondered if that was what they called damning with faint praise.

He tapped his fingers against the side of the pot, furiously contemplating.

“Does he know you’re asking me this?” Miyagi’s silence was telling, and Johnny’s eyes widened. “Oh come on, man! You can’t be serious. He’ll never agree to this. He’ll throw a fit. Talk about trust issues.”

“Miyagi know student,” the old man said, dry as a bone. “Daniel-san good at anger, bad at grudge. He understand." Pause. "Eventually.”

The old many spoke with certainty. Johnny guessed he would be the one to know, but even so, he had a hard time seeing how this would end well for any of them.

However, the thought of practicing karate again, even if it was just with LaRusso....the prospect of that alone was enough to have Johnny seriously considering it. Sometimes, he missed karate - the thrill of a match, the bone-tired satisfaction of hours spent on working his body over on the mat - so much that he ached with it. If he could get even a small part of that back…

“Say I agree to this,” Johnny finally said. “I’m not saying I will, but say I did. What would I have to do?” Miyagi again looked at him over his glasses, like he saw right through him.

“Come by Miyagi’s house Sunday. Ten in morning, sharp. Daniel-san will be back then. Then we will see.”

Miyagi scrawled the address on a small slip of paper and handed it over. 

“Thanks,” Johnny said awkwardly, tucking the little sheet into the rest of his pile. “No promises, but I’ll think about it.” He headed for the door.

“Very good,” Miyagi called after him. “See you Sunday, Johnny-san.”

Johnny twisted his mouth in displeasure. Meddling know-it-all.

Once he returned to his apartment, Johnny replaced the bonsai in its new window nook and took out the instructions to look them over. Johnny noted that the handwriting differed from what was on the address slip - so LaRusso must’ve written them. Huh. 

He guessed he’d never seen his handwriting before, and it was a little strange to have it in front of him now. It was tight, and small, and a little loopy - somehow exactly what he would have pictured from LaRusso, if he’d ever bothered thinking about it.

His mouth thinned as he read the first line on the page - written in all caps, with the last three words underlined, punctuated by several exclamation points. 

_WATER_ _ONCE A DAY! _ _!!_

What a little shit.

*****

The next Sunday, Johnny rolled into Canoga Park at ten to ten. He then spent the next seven minutes circling the block on which Miyagi’s house was located, driving through the weird little oil yard and over the train tracks, debating whether or not he should actually turn down the dirt drive framed by an oddly imposing wood fence.

From the street, he could glimpse the front of the banana yellow Ford Super De Luxe that Daniel drove around in. For some reason, the sight of that more than anything made him sweat. This was an awful idea. He didn’t miss karate enough to put himself through this.

Yes he did. He turned into the driveway and parked before he could make another turn around the neighborhood. Exiting the car, he took a long look around the yard. There was a small, quaint little green house set back from the street, in front of which sat a row of classic cars besides LaRusso’s. Johnny felt a twinge of jealousy - they were damn nice, and in great condition, too. 

Unsure where to go, he traipsed toward the house, following the soft sound of voices he could tell were coming from the backyard. The gate to the back had been left unlatched, half ajar, and once again, Johnny hesitated. Should he let himself in? Announce his presence? Enter guns blazing, no preamble, just to test LaRusso’s reflexes?

He had a feeling that last one probably wouldn’t earn him too many brownie points with the old man OR LaRusso.

In the end, he compromised, ducking his head through the ajar gate, calling “hello?” as he made his way into the yard, before stopping short.

It was, Johnny had to grudgingly admit, incredible. If he was into that zen meditation shit, it would be like some kind of architectural wet dream, all neatly kept greenery and warm wood pathways - and was that an actual koi pond in the corner of the yard? No wonder Daniel chose to spend so much time here. Johnny had seen wealthy suburbanites shell out thousands for yards that weren’t half as nice as all this.

After taking in the whole of the yard, his eyes settled on Miyagi and Daniel, who were a bit down the wood walkway closest to Johnny, near a rigged up white punching bag. The old man looked pleased and a little smug, while LaRusso gaped at Johnny like there were snakes sprouting out of his head.

As per usual, however, LaRusso’s shock was nowhere near enough to render him voiceless.

“What’s this?” he asked wildly, head swinging between Miyagi and Johnny like they were playing a particularly aggressive game of tennis. “What’s he doing here?”

“Miyagi have surprise for Daniel. New sparring partner, start today.”

“Excuse me?” Daniel sputtered. “Sparring? You don’t like fighting, that’s why we’ve been focusing on the kata. Karate is for defense only, remember?”

If that were true, Johnny wanted to ask, then why the hell had he bothered competing at the All Valley a second time? 

“Miyagi believe in balance. Kata good, but just one part of karate. For Daniel-san, need sparring for balance now,” Miyagi said placidly. 

Annoyed, Johnny wondered why the old man couldn’t have previewed all of this with his wayward student. He’d come to practice karate, not stand there awkwardly while LaRusso bickered with his sensei.

“Well why can’t I just spar with you? Why the hell do I have to spar with _him_?” He cast Johnny a quick, dirty look, and Johnny shrugged blandly, unwilling to reveal how deeply uncomfortable this whole thing was making him.

“Teach trust. Daniel-san need to learn trust again. Trust self, trust karate, trust opponent.” Miyagi leveled his student with an unreadable, significant look, and in turn Daniel looked again at Johnny, this time anxiously. Like Miyagi’s words had revealed some kind of dark secret. Like it should mean something to Johnny. (Then again, Johnny thought with some guilt, he guessed he did know some things LaRusso didn’t know he knew.)

“And you think l’m gonna be able to trust Mr. Sweep-the-Leg Johnny Lawrence?” Daniel scoffed. _Hey!_ Low blow. Sort of. “Mr. Miyagi, is this some kind of joke?”

“If joke, not very funny one,” Miyagi countered. Johnny privately agreed. Daniel, less angry now than just beyond bewildered, stared at him.

“You’re telling me.”

Finally, Johnny decided it was time to chime in.

“Look, are we gonna get to any actual karate today, or are you just planning to yap us all to death, LaRusso?” he asked, deliberately bored, knowing it would set the other boy off again (and kind of wanting it to). He was not disappointed.

“Why don’t you shut your trap, man?” Daniel said furiously, turning on him. “I think I’m entitled to some doubt, you’re not the one who needed surgery and three months of physical therapy to fix the knee you helped bust up!”

Well shit, what was Johnny supposed to say to that? LaRusso wasn’t wrong. And Johnny was realizing that this had turned into an even more colossal mistake than he’d thought it would be. Two conversations that didn’t come to blows did not a friendship - or even a friendly rivalry - make, and he knew that. 

But he was a little surprised at how disappointed he was by it.

“Fine, whatever man,” Johnny scowled. “I’m outta here, this isn’t worth it.” He was turning to leave when Miyagi’s voice - a loud, commanding bark he had never heard before - cut through the yard.

“Daniel-san! Johnny-san!” Both froze, in Johnny’s case mid-step. “Come here.” Unwillingly, like some unknown force had taken hold of his feet, Johnny turned on his heel and dragged himself over to stand in front of Miyagi and Daniel. 

“Stand face each other ” Miyagi directed sternly. Mutinous, Daniel opened his mouth and Miyagi cut him off with a series of sharp, disapproving tsks. “Quiet. No talk now. Daniel-san talk enough for two people. Look Johnny-san in eye.” After a few long moments, Daniel reluctantly turned to look directly at Johnny. 

Bathed in the late morning light, Johnny had never noticed that Daniel’s brown eyes were flecked with a little amber. He swallowed convulsively.

“Now,” Miyagi continued. “You both bow.” Johnny couldn’t see his reflection, but he imagined that in that moment, he and LaRusso probably had identically miserable expressions. Haltingly, they both jerked down as shallowly as they could get away with, eyes never leaving the other’s. “And breathe. In, out. In, out.”

Johnny was ready to call bullshit, but before he had the opportunity, both Miyagi and Daniel had begun the odd, apparently familiar ritual. As he breathed, LaRusso was doing some kind of weird gesture with both his arms that looked stupid as hell, following the rhythm of his sensei’s mantra.

Against his will, Johnny found himself also matching his breathing to the words (but without the hand motions, because he wasn’t a total loser). Slowly but surely, the fog of his irritation started to clear, creating space for him to calm, to become aware of the unseasonable warmth of the morning air, the smell of freshly cut grass.

As the exercise wound down, Johnny found himself unwillingly following the flex of LaRusso’s tan, lean biceps as they pushed up through the air and out from his chest. He was still skinnier than he had any right to be, but there was no denying the more adult lines of his shoulders and waist, visible through the slim, dark muscle tank he was wearing. Mouth a little dry, Johnny looked away.

Miyagi guided them through their final, deliberate breaths, taking a moment of silence afterward to let them eye each other, wary but calm.

“Better?” Miyagi finally asked.

“Yeah,” Daniel said in a rough, low voice. Wordless, Johnny nodded, once, sharp. He looked at Daniel again, knowing what he needed to say, but unable to find the words.

“You cut your hair,” he mumbled instead, stalling for time. Daniel started, leveling him with the same surprised, baffled look he’d had earlier.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, lifting a hand to his head unconsciously. “When I was in Jersey. My cousin’s a barber. And,” he admitted almost reluctantly, “I needed a change.”

It looked good - parted differently, a little sleeker than he’d worn it in high school. Johnny didn’t know why he’d noticed that. He wished he hadn’t brought it up.

“Look,” Johnny said, veering away from the odd, dangerous-feeling territory he’d hurled them into. “I know what we did to you during the tournament was shitty. I wish I could totally blame it on Kreese, but I - I could’ve said no,” he choked out, a truth he’d previously admit to only himself, and just a handful of times. “I wish I had. I can’t make up for it. But I promise you - I'll never do it again. Not to you. Not to anyone else.”

Daniel stared at the ground, fist clenching and releasing on his thigh, considering. He seemed to be mouthing something to himself, but Johnny couldn’t really make it out. Finally, he looked up, and some wild thing in his brown eyes had settled.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I believe you.” Pause. “I’m sorry I flew off the handle. I know it’s - I know it’s hard to resist when someone you admire tells you to do something, even if you don’t wanna do it.” He looked paler, now, speaking with the weight of an experience that Johnny can’t help but question. “And I know you didn’t want to do it. I’m sorry if I made it sound like you did.”

Johnny scuffed the ground with the toe of his shoe, embarrassed. He hated this feelings shit. It was for chicks.

“Thanks,” he finally muttered.

Miyagi clapped once, breaking them both out of the odd little trance they’d been in.

“Very good, both of you,” he declared approvingly. “You ready now for karate.”

Johnny peeked at Daniel’s face, gauging his reaction.

“Whaddya say, LaRusso?” he said, hopefully not too hopefully. “Want to give it a try?”

Daniel chewed the corner of his mouth for several seconds, thinking it over.

“Yeah, alright,” he agreed. He smiled, just a tiny bit. “Might be nice to fight someone I can actually beat.”

“Hey!” Johnny exclaimed, a little offended. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

Daniel held out a hand.

“Truce?” he said amicably. “For real, this time?” With only the barest hesitation, Johnny grasped it in his own, firm and sure. LaRusso’s hand was warm and surprisingly soft, his grip stronger than his frame would indicate. Johnny was pretty sure this was the first time they’d ever touched each other without an ass kicking assured at the other end.

Miyagi cleared his throat, and they both yanked their hands away, realizing how they’d been lingering.

“Ready?” he asked, a glint in his eye that Johnny couldn’t really pinpoint. Both nodded. “Come. We do warm up.”

It was both odd and not, following the direction of someone who wasn’t Kreese. Miyagi was strict, and he challenged them, but he was never cruel, and he had a wry sense of humor that flew low under the radar. Based on Daniel’s resigned expression after a frankly hilarious crack or two at his expense, Johnny sensed that this was not something the karate master was affecting for Johnny’s benefit.

It was also odd moving parallel with LaRusso, versus against him. The other boy was bouncy, and flexible, possessing a rangy grace that Johnny grudgingly admired. There was grace, too, in Johnny’s speed and power (still, he noted with satisfaction, even after a lengthy break from practicing), but - Daniel was _shifty_ , flowing like water. 

Watching him, Johnny understood now how he’d made relatively swift work of most of Cobra Kai. His skill was deception through defense, and it had taken Johnny all the way until he was two points down in the All Valley final to start to realize that and come up with ways to counter.

Finally, they faced each other. Johnny consciously relaxed his limbs, ignoring the slight butterflies in his stomach. Daniel, however, was visibly nervous, standing across the grass and looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else. The way he held himself reminded Johnny, briefly, of the way he’d looked in that final match against Mike Barnes. 

It did not start well. Johnny would fully admit he was a little rusty, but Daniel was overly tentative, often backing off from clashes before they could really develop. It was frustrating - he’d start to engage, like he wanted to, but then he’d catch himself and slip away from the exchange. Johnny was getting a little fed up, and he could tell Miyagi was, too.

“Daniel-san!” he barked after the umpteenth encounter like this. “This karate, not ballet! Save twirl for dance floor. Focus!”

Daniel’s mouth thinned. He was breathing hard - probably harder than he should have been, for all the contact they’d had - and looked a little out of sorts.

“Can I have a minute? Sorry,” he tossed Johnny’s way, sincerely apologetic. “I just...I just need a minute.” 

Stymied by what was happening - when had cocksure little Jersey rat Daniel LaRusso ever pussyfooted around like this? - Johnny shrugged.

“Sure, I guess,” he said, bewildered. Daniel walked off across the yard, hands on his hips, head down. To Johnny, it looked a bit like he was berating himself, pacing back and forth and muttering. 

After a moment, Miyagi sighed and followed after his student, concern clear in his eyes. Lost and a little out of the loop, Johnny flopped onto the grass, idly trying and failing to eavesdrop on the semi-intense conversation that sensei and student were having. Was all of this really because of one rough-and-tumble karate tournament?

Finally, Daniel’s shoulders relaxed and his head dropped. Miyagi patted him on the arm and they made their way back over to where Johnny was now sunning himself.

“Sorry,” Daniel said again, muted. “I’m ready to try again, if you’re game.”

Johnny hopped fluidly to his feet, congratulating himself for still being able to pull off one of his favorite old tricks. He studied Daniel - there was new focus and intensity in his gaze, and his shoulders were square. Okay. Maybe they were finally going to get somewhere.

“Alright,” Johnny said. “Let’s go.”

This time, it went much, much better. Whether a byproduct of his conversation with Miyagi, or by some miracle of self-introspection, Daniel seemed to have rediscovered some of his missing edge, and Johnny, out of practice as he was, was definitely staying on his toes keeping up with him. 

It was hard, and relentless, and absolutely exhilarating. Johnny had really started to let go and lose himself in the push pull when Daniel kicked out with his left leg and Johnny, on autopilot, caught his ankle in his hands. In a blinding bit of deja vu, they both froze completely.

For a second, Johnny’s vision tunneled until all he could see before him was a skinny little twerp with fluffy hair, in a white gi that was just a bit too big for him. He was hobbled, and scared, and so fucking brave.

(With the situations reversed, he didn’t really want to know what, in that moment, Daniel saw.)

Swallowing hard, Johnny came back to himself. They weren’t at the tournament. That had been over a year ago. There was no crowd, no red plastic mat, no gis, no Cobra Kai. It was over. He’d made the wrong choice then, but he didn’t have to keep making the wrong choice. He could change the story.

Holding LaRusso’s ankle carefully, he stroked the inside of it once with his thumb - absently noting the goosebumps that rose up along the path it traced - then let it go. Clearing his throat, he stepped back a bit. 

That was what he wished he’d done, that night in 1984, trophy be damned.

Back on two feet, Daniel stared at him, like he was seeing him for the first time ever. The naked wonder on his face made him look even younger than he usually did, and something twisted uncomfortably in Johnny’s chest.

Finally, Daniel smiled - a big, unburdened, crinkling-the-corners-of-his-eyes grin - and it made Johnny’s breath catch.

“Alright,” Daniel said cheerfully, dropping back into his stance. “Go again?”

They spent just over two hours that way, battling back and forth to the point of giddy exhaustion. Johnny was pleased to note that once he shook off most of the rust, he won roughly as many points as he lost. At one point, Miyagi left them and came back with a pitcher of iced tea and some glasses. He left them again to sip their drinks and catch their breath in the grass, puttering a ways off with some of the shrubs.

“So you live here now?” Johnny questioned, savoring the cold, lemony rush of his tea. “That’s kinda cool.”

“Mmmm, yeah.” Daniel had found a warm patch of sunlight and was currently lounging in it like an overgrown lizard. “My ma had to pick up sticks back to Jersey to take care of my Uncle Louie while Mr. Miyagi and I were in Okinawa. When we got back, we found out our apartment complex was being converted into condos. Mr. Miyagi lost his job, and I didn’t really have anywhere to go, but I didn’t love the idea of going back east, either. So I stayed here, and now we’re trying to make it work with the shop.”

“Okinawa?” Johnny asked, impressed despite himself. “You were in Okinawa? What was that like?”

Daniel cracked an eye open, seemingly amused at the idea that he might have a life experience over on Johnny Lawrence.

“Different. Definitely different,” he said slowly. “Mostly really cool. Kinda out of time, and very traditional.” He made a face. “For better and for worse.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” With some effort, Daniel pulled himself out of his sun-soaked stupor and sat up, stretching, a strip of bronze skin peeking out from between the hem of his tank top and the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Well, I’ll say this - you ever find yourself on the wrong end of a dispute over honor, Johnny, just make sure your opponent isn’t a karate master who believes any conflict can be solved with a death match.” Daniel patted his shoulder as he hauled himself to his feet. “Wanna go one more time before we wrap it up here?”

“What?” Johnny exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. “Wait, no way, LaRusso, you can’t just leave it like that. What about a death match?” Daniel grinned mischievously, bouncing on his toes.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he cackled, dodging Johnny’s right hook and neatly dancing away from an attempted takedown. “I tell you what, you win the point, you get the story.”

It was not picture perfect karate by any means; both were hot, and tired, and approaching the upper limit of their endurance. Daniel had gone a little loopy, too, snickering between punches and generally not doing a great job of living up to his dojo’s philosophy of focus. Finally, annoyed by his chittering, Johnny sold out to hook his legs and topple him, but he was sloppy and misjudged the angle, so they both went down with twin grunts, a pile of sweaty limbs and confusion. 

In an attempt to extricate himself, Johnny pushed up onto his forearms. Only then did he realize how close his face was to LaRusso’s, how tightly pressed their bodies were. He sucked in a sharp breath, then, close enough to notice that not a single freckle or blemish marred the smooth, tan skin of Daniel’s face. Close enough to notice that he smelled a little bit like lemons.

Oh. He gulped, and he couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the other boy’s eyes tracked the motion, skimming up and down his throat before traveling back up to his face.

“Somehow not thinkin' that went how you pictured,” Daniel said softly, amused - and so close that Johnny could feel the heat of each individual puff of breath from his mouth.

“Not exactly,” Johnny replied, equally quiet, glued in place. Just a little bit closer and they’d be frighteningly near to something Johnny hadn’t let himself think about since he was seventeen and beating this skinny, mouthy, (pretty) brat in a red sweatshirt into the sand. “Would we count this as a point?” he asked after a beat.

Daniel laughed, and a shiver traveled down the length of Johnny’s spine.

“Maybe just this once,” he said indulgently. “Since you’re so curious.”

Between the lazy way LaRusso was smiling up at him and the firm line of his lean form, partially pinned beneath Johnny’s, it was hard for the blonde to remember what it was he’d wanted to know in the first place. If LaRusso had been a girl, this would be right around the time Johnny would start thinking about thumbing under his chin, tilting his face up so he could - _shit._

Johnny scrambled up and back violently, red in the face, fingers clawing at the grass. Alarmed, Daniel sat up quickly. 

“Hey, man, are you- ”

“I gotta go,” Johnny blurts out, backing up across the yard. “I just remembered I got a - a thing, my mom has a thing.”

Daniel frowned.

“But I thought you wanted to know-”

“Some other time,” Johnny interrupted him, practically vaulting across the lawn now. “I’m real late! Thanks for the tea Mr. Miyagi,” he said quickly jogging out, ignoring the quizzical look the old karate master gave him as he passed, seemingly oblivious to everything that had transpired not twenty feet from where he stood. 

Johnny jumped in his car and made it several blocks before pulling over to the side of the road, not quite hyperventilating but not quite _not_ hyperventilating.

What the fuck had he been thinking? Laying there like that, almost - almost _flirting,_ and thinking about, nearly _considering_ \- he shook his head to clear it.

Look, Johnny wasn’t totally out of touch with himself. He could admit to noticing men of above average attractiveness, could even admit to understanding what made them attractive. Babes were babes, after all.

While he knew this wasn’t really the normal thought process for your average straight male, he’d also never felt especially compelled to act on it - so why give it more thought than it required? On the beach, it was easy enough to hide that he was checking out a girl’s rack and maybe also eyeing her boyfriend’s ass, so, no harm done, yeah?

That was how it had always been. But earlier, with LaRusso, it felt like that look-don’t-touch line had started to blur. Like in the absence of the burning desire to pound him into the dirt, it had been replaced with the burning desire to...well. Better to not give voice to it, even if only in his head.

Before he could feel too stupid about it, Johnny started mimicking the breathing exercise Miyagi had set to the two of them earlier. _In, out. In, out_. It was annoyingly effective, and after a minute or two of even, centered breaths, Johnny felt like he was in a normal headspace again, capable of rational thought. 

So he might’ve acted like a lunatic, he realized regretfully, unclenching his hands from the steering wheel and relaxing back into his seat. He was pretty sure that could be explained away if he wanted to return - Daniel certainly hadn’t seemed too bothered by the contact, just confused by Johnny’s sudden flight - but did he want to return?

He thought the answer might be yes. Before he’d let himself get derailed, he’d been having the most fun he’d had in months - probably almost a year. Practicing karate again, sparring with another person on relatively equal footing - it was like something Johnny hadn’t even realized was missing had slotted back into place, and it felt _good._ He thought it might’ve been the same for LaRusso, as well.

He’d just have to be careful, was all. No getting caught off guard, no sloppiness, no overt friendliness. Definitely no touching beyond what was necessary. Johnny would treat this as little more than a business arrangement - you help me, I help you, we both return to our corners. That’s how it would have to be. He nodded to himself, ignoring the doubtful little voice that had taken up residence in the back of his head.

That night, Johnny dropped into bed, exhausted, expecting to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep the second his head hit the pillow. He was partially correct; he passed out nearly the moment he laid down, but his sleep was restless, and in the morning he awoke before his alarm, tired and troubled. From his dreams he recalled nothing but the scent of citrus and the desperate feeling of reaching out, grasping for something loose and gossamer that lay stubbornly just out of reach, no matter how close he drew.

A lingering sense of unrest plagued him throughout the rest of his morning, and the feeling did not improve when he found out he’d be riding shotgun all day with one of the new managers - Robby, a burly, six-foot-plus guy who looked like he’d be more at home on a surfboard than atop a riding mower.

Johnny had heard the whispers about him - decent looking, long hair, in his late twenties, still single and all that that implied - but hadn’t really thought much of them. Johnny wasn’t a gossip, and he tended to keep to himself most of the time, the way he had before he’d joined Cobra Kai and made real friends. 

However, it was unfortunate for Johnny that Robby lived to talk. And talk. And talk. And since all they needed for the day was a two-man crew, there was no buffer between them that would allow Johnny to mostly sit in the disgruntled silence he preferred, hiding behind his headphones.

“So then I said to him, I don’t care what you do to me, but if you arrest these flamingos my grandma is really gonna have something to say about that.”

Johnny grunted noncommittally in response, peering listlessly at the well-manicured greenery of Encino. Man, he was tired. From the driver’s seat, the other man stared at him incredulously.

“Not much of a talker, are you kid?” 

One, Johnny bristled at being called “kid” by someone who was barely ten years older than he was - if that, even. Two…

“What makes you say that?” he asked, annoyed. “When I got something to say, I’ll say it.”

Robby let out a low whistle.

“They weren’t kidding about you, were they? Prickly as a cactus.” 

Johnny’s cheeks darkened red with annoyance and embarrassment, not liking the knowing way he’d said that. He hated when people talked about him behind his back. More than anything.

“Yeah, well, you should hear what they’re saying about _you_ ,” he shot back. If one thing hadn’t changed, it was Johnny’s inability to back down from perceived insult. In response, Robby snorted.

“Oh yeah, what’re they saying?” He smirked, challenging. Bluff called, Johnny hesitated. Even he knew where the line was (barely). Robby rolled his eyes. “I’m a single guy with an earring, you think I haven’t heard that shit before?”

It was Johnny’s turn to stare incredulously.

“And it doesn’t bother you?” 

“Why should it? The bunch of’em combined barely have two brain cells to rub together. They don’t know me. You don’t know me. Long as it doesn’t mess with my paycheck they can say whatever they want when they’re giggling around the water cooler.” Pause. “I could kick all their asses blindfolded anyway.”

It wasn’t exactly the denial Johnny had expected, but grudgingly, he had to concede the other man’s point - dude looked like he logged some serious hours at the gym.

“You don’t look half bad in a fight,” he admitted.

“Been boxing for ten years,” he said matter-of-factly, with a hint of smugness. “Come at me at your own risk.” He turned into the driveway of their first client. “Anyway, you can save the strong, silent type routine for your girlfriend. We’re looking at six mind-numbing hours of mowing and trimming and I need something to work with here.”

Johnny drummed his fingers against the car door, considering.

“I don’t have a girlfriend right now,” he finally offered, reluctantly. The other man chuckled.

“You? Mr. Personality? No way.” He tossed Johnny a pair of goggles. “Wanna run the weed whacker?”

And that was the odd, irritating way Johnny found himself with his first real work friend.

*****

Life settled into an odd little rhythm, after that. The next Sunday he’d returned to Miyagi’s house, tail tucked between his legs, making up excuses for his hasty departure the previous week. He didn’t really know if they’d fully believed him, but they’d accepted the lies without question, and that was what mattered. 

So sparring with LaRusso became a regular occurrence, and had sadly evolved into the highlight of his week. At work, all Johnny could think of was the next time they’d get to fight; at Miyagi’s, he was careful to keep himself on a tight enough leash that he wouldn’t do anything to embarrass himself again. 

It could be frustrating, at times - once in awhile, he’d lock up so tight trying to keep things in check that he’d leave himself open, let LaRusso score hits he really shouldn’t have been able to. In those moments, he could almost hear Miyagi’s disapproving tut in his head, even though the old man wasn’t even technically his sensei. 

For the most part, though, it was better than Johnny ever could have imagined. Even if he did sometimes find himself admiring the way the sun glinted off of Daniel’s dark hair and bronze skin just a little too closely. Whatever. He was only human. No one needed to know.

At first, Miyagi had stuck around, keeping to the periphery of their bouts just in case things got out of hand and they needed pulling apart (and that did happen a little bit, at first - progress wasn't a linear path, as it turned out). However, as they learned to trust each other and establish unspoken limits, he left them to their devices more and more, tinkering around the house or in the front with the cars, allowing them to exhaust themselves with limited supervision. 

For Johnny, the biggest surprise had not been how well they sparred - even at the All Valley, he’d reluctantly admired how well-matched they were, how skillfully they played off of each other - but how much he genuinely liked Daniel as a person, without the specter of Ali and Cobra Kai driving a wedge between them. He was funny, and a little spastic, and could be surprisingly introspective.

Their personalities gelled more seamlessly than he ever could have expected when he was seventeen and ready to sock the little twerp just for breathing the wrong way at him. (Not that Daniel hadn’t done his fair share of poking the bear.) 

Obviously, they both loved karate, even if they’d gravitated toward completely different styles. But they were pretty simpatico when it came to a lot of other things, too. Each had realized early on that they weren't cut out for college. They both loved playing soccer, and it was with regretful hindsight that Johnny wondered how much better their team would've been senior year if he hadn’t sicced Bobby on speedy, agile Daniel’s tryout.

They were also of like mind on movies and TV: _Rocky IV_ was an instant classic, _Back to the Future_ was weird as hell, and neither would admit outright that they’d loved _The Breakfast Club_ . Both watched _Knight Rider_ (for the car, duh), hardly ever missed _Saturday Night Live_ , and had grudgingly admitted to following _Dallas_ (Johnny blamed his mom, Daniel blamed Mr. Miyagi, and neither of them were telling the whole truth). 

When Johnny found out that Daniel had missed _Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome_ because he’d been in Okinawa the previous year, he absently promised they could watch it together - strike one against his resolve to keep things strictly business. But Daniel’s smile had been so wide and pleased that it was hard for Johnny to be too mad at himself. 

(And besides, LaRusso deserved some kinda reward for winning an actual death match, holy _shit._ Johnny was never going to Okinawa. He had no doubt he’d offend the honor of at least three different people before breakfast, and while he was confident in his karate, he wasn’t _that_ confident.)

Music - well, there were some differences there. They did have REO Speedwagon in common, but on the day that Johnny idly mentioned how much he hated Bruce Springsteen, Daniel stared at him like he'd kidnapped and skinned his favorite cat (the little calico that lived under Mr. Miyagi’s porch).

“Are you serious? You hate Springsteen? He’s the _Boss_!” He looked so desperately scandalized that Johnny had to hold back a snort of laughter.

“Yeah, the boss of shitty music. You only like him because he’s from _Jersey_.” 

Daniel put his hands on his hips, incensed.

“His songs are about the human condition! His lyrics are like poetry! Have you even listened to _Born in the U.S.A._?” In response, Johnny blew a big fat raspberry from where he was reclined in the grass. “Fine, why don’t you show me all of Ratt’s Grammy awards and nominations.”

Johnny sat up, offended now.

“You leave Ratt out of this! It’s not always about a trophy, Danielle,” he said snidely. “The Grammys are a popularity contest, anyways.”

“Yeah, and Bruce Springsteen is popular because he’s good!” Daniel shook his head, incredulous. “This fuckin’ guy. Boss of shitty music. Jesus.” He tapped his foot. “Okay, but what about, like, Fleetwood Mac?”

Johnny thought about it for a moment. He actually did like them (well, he liked Stevie Nicks, anyway), but if the choice was between appeasing LaRusso and riling him up…

After a moment, he shook his head and made a face. Thumbs down. Daniel turned bright red.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me!” he exploded.

Johnny was pretty sure he burst at least two blood vessels trying not to laugh, but it was 100% worth it.

*****

A few days later, the joke was on Johnny when his shift was wrecked by the client from hell, a yuppie transplant from San Francisco who had insisted on (and was shelling out obscene amounts of money for) an authentic-looking Japanese rock garden to round out his new Encino Hills McMansion. 

The project had dragged on for weeks, and was uniquely capable of ruining the day of whichever crew members were assigned to it. It was for this reason that they’d begun rotating out, to avoid a situation where anyone might get so bogged down by the negativity that they snapped.

And there was negativity, all right. They’d spent endless hours laying the stones and gravel so precisely that even their exacting client couldn’t find anything specifically wrong with them, but the greenery accents he’d requested were another story. Johnny had lost count of the number of odd, exotic bushes he’d planted and then uprooted throughout the course of the week, and he was reaching the end of his patience.

It was after one such instance that Johnny became so frustrated that he yanked his headphones from around his neck and had to storm over to the truck to take five before he threw something at someone.

“This is bullshit,” he fumed in a low voice at Robby, who nodded, looking a little weary himself, even with his seemingly inexhaustible fount of social energy. “It’s just that one stupid corner he can’t let go, and it’s the last thing we’ve gotta do. I can’t listen to his bitching anymore” He leaned against the back of the truck, irritated and exhausted, thinking it over. Then, he straightened.

“I got an idea,” Johnny said slowly, still mulling it over. “Might be crazy, but at this point could be worth a shot.” 

Robby looked over at him questioningly. Johnny smiled a little. 

“How would you feel about a little trip to Reseda?”

*****

Robby was predictably skeptical when they pulled up in front of Mr. Miyagi’s Little Trees.

“Not winning any points for style, are they?” he said, staring at the admittedly worse-for-wear storefront.

“Sure, they could use a facelift,” Johnny said, bounding up the steps two-by-two, “but wait’ll you see the inside.” He pushed open the door, and was gratified to immediately note Daniel (in a cute little forest green apron he’d never seen before), ringing out a customer - an actual living, breathing customer!

LaRusso’s face brightened when he saw Johnny, and it made his stomach swoop in an uncomfortable way he chose to ignore.

“Hey! Be with you in just a sec,” he called as he helped the elderly woman out the door with her wares.

Robby came up behind Johnny, whistling low.

“Guess you were right, shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.” Johnny elbowed him and looked back, pleased to have been proven correct as his friend’s eyes scanned the whole of the shop. He was less pleased when his gaze landed for a long moment - longer than Johnny thought was strictly necessary - on Daniel as he came back inside.

He smiled at Johnny, dark eyes crinkling, and the blonde couldn’t help a small grin of his own from blossoming.

“So what brings you in today? Didn’t think I’d be seein’ you 'til Sunday.”

“Business, actually,” Johnny said, gesturing at his coworker. “This is Robby. We're on a job right now, and we just so happen to be in the market for some tiny trees.”

Daniel’s smile widened.

“Sounds like you’ve come to the right place, then.” He held out his hand for the other man to shake. “Hi there, nice to meet you. Daniel LaRusso.”

Robby held on, again, for longer than Johnny thought was strictly necessary to conducting an informal introduction.

“Hi Daniel, pleasure. That a Jersey accent I detect?” He said all of this with a very charming smile that Johnny had never seen before and didn’t much care for.

To Johnny’s utter dismay, LaRusso’s cheeks pinked a little. They still hadn’t let go.

“Yeah, how’d you know, man?” 

Johnny wanted to point out that it wasn’t exactly rocket science, but it didn’t seem like that observation would go over well at this juncture.

“Californian by way of Boston. We East Coast natives gotta learn to keep tabs on each other, otherwise we’ll get lost in a sea of beach blondes like Johnny, here.” Johnny resisted the urge to run his hands through his hair protectively while Daniel laughed, obviously delighted at the slight ribbing at Johnny’s expense. Some friend.

Finally, Daniel took his hand back, still smiling.

“Lemme go get Mr. Miyagi and we’ll see what we can do for you guys.”

“Mind if I come with?” Robby sidled up easily, laying it on thick. “This place is pretty cool, I’d love to see a little more.” Daniel blushed a bit again, nodding his assent and launching into the story of how the shop came to be (a story that Johnny already knew, thanks very much) as he walked. This left Johnny to bring up the rear, fuming a little.

He was no gossip, but he also wasn’t an idiot, and he’d realized pretty quickly that the rumors around work were rooted in some truth - Robby didn’t exactly live a straight and narrow personal life, so to speak. He wasn’t obvious about it, but he also didn't deny it - a level of indiscretion that Johnny personally found a little reckless under the circumstances. 

But the real shock here was LaRusso. There was a line between friendliness and flirting, and to Johnny’s discerning eye, it had smudged some in this instance. Maybe Daniel wasn’t showing active interest, but the fact that he’d entertained (with relative nonchalance) what Johnny felt was a pretty overt “how _you_ doin’?” from another man was...a lot to think about. A lot.

Was it possible that he’d been completely oblivious to the flirting, or that Johnny himself had imagined it?

Chewing these thoughts over, he wandered through the tables of bonsai, looking but not really seeing. It had been his idea, but if Robby was so _interested_ in everything, he could take care of the details. Fingering the leaves of a tiny maple, he was startled when LaRusso’s voice chimed from his immediate left.

“Lookin' to add to your collection?” he asked with a wry little smile. Johnny huffed a laugh.

“No, after our rocky start I think Rambo’s gonna stay an only child.”

Daniel snorted.

“I dunno if it’s funnier that you named your bonsai, or that you named your bonsai _Rambo_. That’s an awful name for a tree.” Johnny glared at him.

“Uh, Rambo is badass and my bonsai is badass. It just makes sense. More sense than claiming that Chicago is one of the greatest bands of the 20th century, anyways,” he said, reminding Daniel of the spirited debate they’d had just a few days ago. Daniel crossed his arms, annoyed.

“That’s because it’s _true_ , and - ” Recalling the purpose of his visit, Johnny looked up, frowning and cutting off the sure-to-be-riveting monologue before it could begin.

“Hey, where’d you leave Robby?” He hoped that sounded less sulky in practice than it had in his head.

“Oh, I think he’s still talking shop with Mr. Miyagi out back.” Daniel seemed pretty unconcerned with this, which pleased Johnny for...reasons. “Thanks for thinking of us, by the way.” Daniel looked up at Johnny through his lashes, and if it were anyone else, under any other circumstances, he would have called it coy. Johnny’s stomach swooped again. “It’s been a little tough getting off the ground, and things like this help a lot.”

A little embarrassed by the gratitude, Johnny waved it off.

“If it gets this client off our back, we’ll be the ones thanking you and your sensei,” he said sincerely. “Seriously, you would not believe the circles this asshole has us running.”

“Guess it’s easy when you got money,” Daniel said drily, fiddling behind himself with the strings of his apron, which had come untied. He made a face. “Can you see if - I think I might be caught on something, it’s stuck. I hate this damn thing.”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Johnny angled his way behind LaRusso, noting where the string had gotten tangled between two hooks on one of the tables. “Here, I got it.” Carefully, he unwound the cord, holding it in his hands for a second.

“This is new,” he said with amusement. “Very June Cleaver of you, LaRusso.” Daniel scowled.

“Can it, I’m only wearing it because Mr. Miyagi’s makin’ me,” he said, sulky. “I...might’ve overturned a planter full of damp soil on myself. Twice.” 

Johnny snickered, able to clearly picture Daniel’s embarrassment and Miyagi’s exasperation.

“S’not funny, I ruined two shirts,” Daniel whined, grabbing at the string, confused when Johnny didn’t let it go. “Um, Johnny, kind of gonna need that back.”

Johnny couldn’t say with any certainty what possessed him to do this, but he tightened his grip on the string and pulled the other one from Daniel’s lax fingers, using them both to tug him a step closer, guiding him like a marionette. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” Johnny said, surprised by how husky his voice had gotten. Daniel’s shoulders hitched minutely as Johnny gently and deliberately tied the apron strings together, securing the knot by doubling the bow. When he was done, he stared at the tie where it rested in the curve of LaRusso’s slim back, fingers still softly hooked into the loops. 

The door to the shop jingled, jarring him back to himself. He cleared his throat and stepped back.

“Um, all done,” he mumbled. “Should be better now.”

“Thanks,” Daniel said, a little breathlessly, turning to face him. There was color high on his cheeks, and it triggered a dark, primal satisfaction within Johnny to know that he was the cause of that flush. He looked over at where Miyagi and Robby were now standing, and his throat tightened at the knowing glint in the younger man’s eyes.

The trip had, it seemed, been a success. They loaded up the trees Robby had bartered off Miyagi and beat a hasty departure, Johnny offering up a quick “see you Sunday” on his way out.

Still a little unsettled, he rode shotgun in silence, staring out the window as the dingy strip malls of Reseda rolled into the well-kept, sleepy streets of Encino. For once, Robby didn’t seem inclined to fill the quiet with chatter, choosing instead to let the radio play uninterrupted, occasionally shooting Johnny unreadable looks.

Finally, as they were pulling back down the street to the house they were working on, he spoke.

“That was a pretty good idea, kid. If it works out I’ll make sure you get the credit.” Johnny grunted in acknowledgement but said nothing else. Robby tapped the steering wheel. “You’ve known them a long time?”

“Since senior year,” Johnny finally murmured. “Daniel was in my grade,” he added pointedly, staring at Robby. The other man raised his hands at the implicit challenge, mea culpa.

“No funny business from me,” he said innocently. It was his first oblique acknowledgment of what they both knew was true, and it almost felt like a relief to have it (somewhat) out in the open. “Doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes.” A pause. “Though if I’d known he was spoken for…” he added slyly.

Johnny snapped his head to the side so fast he heard a few bones crack.

“He’s not,” he said quickly, and a little louder than necessary. “I would know if he was.” It was, sadly, true. Daniel lived a little bit like a hermit - he worked at the shop, and lived in his sensei’s house, and trained in the dojo or the yard attached to his sensei’s house, and didn’t really seem to go anywhere else. 

It was a little tragic, that someone as good at making friends as Daniel was should have so few of them.

Robby stared at him.

“No…” he said slowly, drawing out the “o”. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what the hell did you…” Johnny gaped and flushed dark, indignant red as it registered. “Dude! No! What the hell? It’s not like that. We’re not like that. _I’m_ not like that!” He fumbled with the door of the truck for a few agonizing seconds, desperate to escape the suddenly stifling cab. 

When it unlatched, he tried to hop out before remembering that his seatbelt was still hooked in. Cursing, he unbuckled it with clumsy fingers and stumbled out, turning to look back at Robby accusingly. “I don’t know what the hell you think this is, but you can’t just say shit like that,” he said forcefully. “You’ve got it wrong.” He slammed the passenger door shut, breathing hard.

They said nothing more about it after that. Robby seemed to understand that the subject was completely off-limits and did not mention it again, and once Johnny realized the matter had been dropped he managed to relax just a hair.

(As luck would have it, the client loved the bonsai, immediately requesting the name of the shop from which they’d been purchased, and further declaring that so long as Johnny and Robby were in the business, he’d be turning to them for all of his yard maintenance needs. They only just managed to stop themselves from wincing.)

*****

That night, Johnny’s restless sleep was again plagued by odd dreams, most of which were too surreal to remember. However, the last was so vivid that he couldn’t help but recall it in painful detail for a long time after he woke.

He’d found himself back in Mr. Miyagi’s shop, hazy at the edges, awash in the afternoon light. Daniel, in plain view, was standing before him, back turned, dark hair curling at the back of his neck. In an instant, Johnny realized that he was once again holding the strings of the green apron Daniel had been wearing, fingers clenched tightly around the rough fabric. 

Again, he pulled Daniel towards him, but this time, instead of stopping with a step or two between them, he tugged him all the way back, until the slender line of his body was pressed tightly to Johnny’s front. Johnny released the strings, opting instead to slide his hands around Daniel’s waist, anchoring them solidly together.

Dream Daniel sighed and relaxed into the hold, pliant and pleased.

“Johnny,” he whispered, turning his face back toward the other boy’s, breath tickling Johnny’s jaw.

Without hesitation, Dream Johnny dove in, capturing Daniel’s warm, slack mouth with his own. He dipped past the other boy’s parted lips, shallow at first, then deep and searching. Dream Daniel whimpered at the first slick rasp of their tongues, and Johnny groaned as he pulled him in closer, grinding up into his body.

It was good, so fucking good. Johnny couldn’t get close enough; he wanted to strip Daniel down and get his hands all over his bare skin. He wanted to flip him around and work their hips together until they were both mindless and heaving with the pleasure of it. Johnny’s cock ached as he rocked it into Daniel’s clothed ass, fucking his mouth with his tongue.

“Johnny,” Dream Daniel gasped against swollen, kiss-bitten lips. “Johnny, please.” He squeezed the words out in between fevered presses of their mouths. At the same time, he laced their fingers together, moving their joined hands steadily down his body. “Johnny, please, I need - ”

Johnny rocketed upright in bed, eyes flying open. He was soaked in sweat and gulping for air, arms empty and lips tingling with the remembered warmth of kisses. His dick was so hard it hurt, throbbing and leaking precum. He was left with no choice but to take it into one shaking hand, needing only a few harsh strokes before he was coming in a rush, white hot and blinding, the sound of Dream Daniel’s soft pleading echoing in his ears.

He returned to himself slowly, breath uneven and trembling, physically sated but still deeply unsatisfied. He buried his face in his pillow, already understanding there would be no more sleep for the night. 

He was _so_ fucked.


	3. can't fight this feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have tinkered and tinkered and tinkered with this, and now I just have to send it out into the universe before I go crazy. 
> 
> A significant chunk of this self-indulgent little tale has been pre-written, and while some of it got semi-jossed by the latest season of CK (which was bonkers good btw), I think most of this one is okay (more specifically on that in the end notes). I will say that I just can't bear to write Johnny QUITE as stupid as they do on the show for this fic. Maybe if I do another one I will write his brain as the assortment of rocks and empty Coors Banquet bottles it apparently is.
> 
> On that note, I can't believe I'm really going to have to pore over his 500 word all caps Facebook message for canon details/context. 
> 
> Anyway, all usual warnings apply.
> 
> And thanks, as always, for reading and commenting - the reaction to this has really blown me away, and I appreciate it more than I can begin to say. You're all the best around!

* * *

The following Sunday, Johnny begged off from practice, claiming illness.

He felt guilty about the lie, but the prospect of looking Daniel in the eye, being close to him, touching him so soon after such an intense dream seemed like too much, too quickly. Just thinking about it made him queasy and confused (and, frankly, more than a little horny).

How was this possible? In the past, it had always been so easy to shove the inconvenient interest he’d have from time to time in other men into a box - to lock it away and pretend it didn’t exist.

So why was Daniel LaRusso the exception? How was possible that this short, skinny little twerp had the unparalleled capacity to blow Johnny’s life to pieces just by existing? It was beyond understanding.

He went through the motions all that week, debating what he was going to do about the next Sunday. Johnny felt like a shit skipping twice in a row, but was still unsteady, like a badly built house of cards.

In the end, he caught a lucky break, though he wouldn’t have normally looked at it that way. His mother had called begging after his presence at one of Encino Oaks’ swanky Sunday brunches - apparently Sid was up for some bullshit citizenry award that you could buy by donating enough money - and she wanted him there to playact happy families.

Johnny agreed to her request more readily than he normally would, glad for the easy excuse to avoid LaRusso for another week, ignoring the pit that had opened in his stomach. Once again, he rang Daniel and his sensei to let them know he wouldn’t be able to make it for training, and let two weeks of avoidance slip into three.

He knew it was a cruddy thing to do, but he was still surprised by how bad he felt about it, and by how much he missed the weekly time he’d gotten used to spending with Daniel. Aside from the bizarre attraction Johnny couldn’t seem to get under control, Daniel had become a pretty good friend to him, and Johnny found that now that everyone had graduated and scattered, those were in relatively short supply.

Case in point: It was a Friday night, and instead of hanging out with his buddies and drinking and enjoying his life, he was staring at the shitty mall movie marquee, debating whether or not he should see _Iron Eagle_ for the third time in so many weeks or try something new. 

The kid cracking gum at the counter didn’t seem especially impressed by his dilemma, so Johnny made a snap decision and bought his ticket, ignoring the raised eyebrows it prompted.

He swung by concessions for some snacks - popcorn, extra buttery, and Red Vines (never Twizzlers, only nerds ate Twizzlers) and was about to head into the theatre when a painfully familiar voice rang out behind him.

“Johnny?” 

Oh crap. Johnny froze and turned slowly, praying for a sinkhole to open up beneath him.

“LaRusso,” he greeted, smiling reluctantly. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Hey,” Daniel returned tentatively, slinging an ICEE that was about as big as his head. “Weird coincidence, yeah?” He laughed, a little rueful. “Mr. Miyagi sorta forced me to take the night off. Said he didn’t care what I did, but that I couldn’t do it at the shop or at the house. Think he’s tryin’ to tell me something about my social life?”

Johnny wasn’t totally sure how to respond to that. They were both at the movies by themselves, after all.

The sight of LaRusso hit him like a gut punch, though. He was dressed a little more nicely than he usually was for practice, jeans and a bright red bomber jacket that set off his hair and eyes and why the _fuck_ could Johnny not stop _noticing_ that?

“Maybe he just wanted some alone time,” Johnny finally said awkwardly. Daniel looked down and scuffed the ground with the toe of his beat up sneakers.

“Yeah, well, who could blame him? Probably no picnic, stuck with me all the time.” 

Johnny frowned. Where'd that come from?

“That wasn’t what I meant - ” 

“Did I do something?” 

They both blurted these things out at the same time, Johnny on defense and Daniel looking nervous. Johnny stared at him, taken aback.

“What? No, why would you think that?” Stupid. Johnny knew exactly why he’d think that, he’d just hoped he wouldn’t be called out on it. So fucking stupid.

Daniel chewed at his cuticle, a nervous habit that seemed to crop up whenever he was particularly on edge.

“Just...you haven’t come to practice in a couple of weeks, and I know things come up, but I still wanted to make sure I didn’t, y’know, do anything. To make you want to stop.” Jesus Christ, Johnny hated how big and brown and earnest Daniel’s eyes got when he was upset, like some cute little animated woodland creature. “Because I thought...well, I thought we were having a pretty good time.”

Well goddamn if Johnny didn’t feel like the lowest of the low now, his gut twisting itself into sour, guilty knots.

“We were,” he promised. “We _are_. Look, I didn’t mean to blow you guys off two weeks in a row like that. I’ve just been dealing with some stuff and,” he grimaced, “my mom begged me to go to that shitty brunch on Sunday. It sucked.”

It _had_ sucked. The whole time, he’d sat there in the preppy suit and tie he hardly ever wore anymore, weathering Sid’s jabs and his mother’s practiced ignorance of them, biting his tongue at how completely boring and banal the whole thing was. He endured by fantasizing that he was instead nestled in Miyagi’s picturesque little backyard, trading kicks and punches with LaRusso until his muscles ached. And also by sneaking a shit-ton of champagne so that he was pretty torqued by the end of brunch. Eat shit, Sid.

Daniel’s shoulders dropped a little, even though he didn’t look entirely convinced.

“Sure, yeah, I get it. And sorry if I sound way insecure,” he winced. “But I got a bad habit of sticking my foot in my mouth sometimes so I just wanted to...check,” he finished lamely. 

Sensing his opening to veer things into more lighthearted territory, Johnny took it.

“Trust me, LaRusso,” he drawled. “If _that_ were enough to drive me off I’d be long gone by now. Plus, I dish it as much as I take it,” he conceded grudgingly. Daniel looked down and huffed out a laugh.

“You got that right.” Then, he perked up. “So, what’re you here to see?”

Johnny flushed.

“ _Iron Eagle_ ,” he said nervously.

“Oh nice!” Daniel bounced on his toes. “I think that one’s showing in, uh, theatre four.”

Johnny craned his neck, checking, and then wincing when LaRusso was proven right.

“Oh yeah. Guess I should get going.” He made no move to leave. “What’re you here for?”

Daniel looked a little cornered, eyes darting around.

“ _Down and Out In Beverly Hills_ ,” he answered quickly, taking a slurp of his slushie. “Heard it was funny.”

“Oh yeah, it is.” Johnny did a sweep of the theatre again. “Looks like that one’s over that way too. Should we - should we walk over?”

Neither of them moved, staring at one another for several long, unbending moments. Eventually, Daniel groaned.

“Fine, I give. My ticket’s for _Pretty in Pink_ ,” he grumbled, gesturing at the theatre next to them.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Johnny sighed. “So’s mine, but I definitely wasn’t gonna be the first one to admit I’m here for a chick movie.” Daniel rolled his eyes.

“Well, now that it's confirmed we're both the saddest sacks in the Valley, maybe we should go in? I don’t wanna miss the previews.” He hesitated. “That is, if you wanna. Go in. With me.”

Jesus. Johnny wasn’t that big of an asshole (even if LaRusso _was_ one of those geeks who liked the previews, ugh). He could take a friendly walk into a theatre with his friend and sit down next to him as a friend to watch a nice, friendly movie. See? It was simple.

“Don’t be stupid, LaRusso.” Johnny smiled with an ease he didn’t quite feel, nodding toward the doors. “Shall we?”

As soon as they stepped into the auditorium, Johnny wanted to renege on that agreement. Plunged into dim light, the setting automatically felt much more intimate than under the stale neon glow of the popcorn sign, and Johnny was keenly aware of the fact that they were surrounded on all sides by couples. Movies were a date night activity, and _Pretty in Pink_ seemed like a decidedly date night movie.

Johnny swallowed, wondering if it was too late to run.

But Daniel had already bounded halfway up the steps, scouting out a prime location near the middle and plopping down. Well, at least it wasn’t in the makeout row. That would’ve been awkward.

Daniel smiled around his straw at Johnny, lips glistening and stained red from the fake cherry, and Johnny abruptly forgot what he’d been so nervous about, dropping down into his seat.

“You know those things are all sugar and artificial flavoring, right?” Johnny whispered as Daniel slurped obnoxiously. The other boy gave him the stink eye, taking an even larger, more purposeful gulp.

“Oh yeah? Which of the five food groups do Red Vines and buttered popcorn fall under, huh?” Daniel winced. “Ow. Brain freeze.”

Johnny settled back, smirking, popping a few kernels in his mouth.

“Serves you right. And when that runs out, you better keep your mitts off my snacks.” For his own sanity, he ignored the bright red tongue stuck out at him ( _and_ the muttered "Red Vines are shit anyways, who the hell eats Red Vines?").

(But he also let it go when, a quarter of the way through the movie, Daniel’s hand did indeed sneak into his half-empty popcorn tub. He was mostly done with it anyway. He was going so fucking soft, it was truly shameful.)

The movie was just okay. In Johnny’s opinion, it didn’t hold a candle to _Iron Eagle_ , but he figured an hour and a half of staring at Molly Ringwald was worth the four bucks. He was also a little uncomfortable with how keenly he identified with the lead. The wealthy, semi-reformed asshole who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted, to hell with what everyone else thought? Yikes.

Afterward, riding the escalator down to the main entrance, he looked sidelong at Daniel, who was fidgeting quietly, lost in space.

“Careful, LaRusso,” he said casually, crossing his arms. “You start thinkin’ too hard, you might short something out."

Daniel elbowed him. Ow, jeez.

“Up yours, man,” he pursed his lips, annoyed. “I was just thinking about the ending.”

“Of the movie? Seemed like a pretty standard chick flick to me.”

“Yeah I guess. I dunno, it just wasn't very realistic.”

Johnny rolled his eyes.

“That’s because it’s a movie, Danielle. It’s not real - that’s kind of the point. I mean, did you think _Teen Wolf_ was a documentary?”

Daniel made a vague noise that somehow managed to agree with Johnny and convey how deeply annoyed he was with him, all at the same time.

“What, you don’t believe the rich asshole can get a happy ending with the hot girl from the wrong side of the tracks?” Johnny followed up with genuine curiosity.

Daniel laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Nah, not in my experience,” he said flatly. Johnny whistled, long and low.

“You must be real fun at parties, Danny Downer.” Daniel's head whipped around so fast that Johnny was surprised he was surprised he didn't break the sound barrier.

" _Don't_ call me - " Abruptly, he cut himself off, backing off a few steps, cheeks tinged red with irritation. Johnny stared at him, speechless.

"I...sorry?" he said dumbly, for once too shocked to weasel his way out of the direct apology.

Daniel's fury melted into embarrassment almost instantly, and he ducked his head, shamefaced.

"No, I'm sorry," he said. "That was harsh. I just don't like...I don't like...well, just stick with Daniel. Or LaRusso. Either's fine." His mouth thinned. "I oughta get goin'," he muttered, hunching in on himself.

Johnny was very confused by what had just gone down and was maybe suffering some mental whiplash, but he also wasn't totally ready for the night to be over, so he reached out and cuffed LaRusso around the neck, stopping him in his tracks. 

"What's the rush? You got somewhere to be?"

Daniel gave him a confused side-eye.

“Uh, no, but I figure I’ve been gone long enough by now that Mr. Miyagi isn't gonna change the locks on me.”

“Oh. Well...you wanna do something else?” Oof. Did that sound too eager?

Daniel looked at him fully, then, with no small amount of surprise. 

“Uh, maybe?” He said slowly. “Like what?”

That was a great question. For Johnny, “something else” usually involved heavy drinking and/or weed, but LaRusso kind of lived like a monk so he guessed both those options were out. And going for a burger or something this late, just the two of them - after seeing a movie, no less - felt way too much like a date. They needed somewhere busy, somewhere they could blend into the crowd. Johnny smiled.

“How long’s it been since your last game of mini-golf, LaRusso?” 

*****

Golf N’ Stuff was, predictably, crammed wall-to-wall with teenagers (which, fine, Johnny was still one himself, but these were _high school_ teens). It was perfect.

When LaRusso pulled into the parking lot, Johnny was already out of the car, leaning against the trunk.

“Anyone ever tell you that you drive like a grandma, LaRusso?” Daniel flipped him off. 

“This car’s a classic, man! She deserves to be treated with respect, not manhandled.” He patted the front end for emphasis.

“No point having a sports car if you don’t drive like it,” Johnny drawled lazily. 

“Yeah, well, this old girl's already had more than enough excitement for one year.” Daniel grimaced. “Courtesy of your ex-girlfriend.”

Whoa. That was territory Johnny hadn’t been prepared to cover tonight. Thus far into their friendly truce, they’d been careful to avoid all talk of Ali and the first half of senior year by silent, mutual agreement. Apparently the ICEE sugar rush was making Daniel bold.

“She’s your ex-girlfriend, too,” Johnny responded, uncertain, as they walked in. Daniel only snorted in response. “Whatever happened to you guys anyway?” 

He was actually curious - they’d seemed inseparable for awhile, and Johnny had gotten so practiced at pretending they’d both moved to Antarctica and died there that he hadn’t even realized when it ended. 

Daniel stared at him incredulously.

“You mean you never heard?” Johnny shook his head. Nope. “Oh, you’ll love this,” he said, shaking his head. “On prom night, she wrecked my car and then she dumped me for a football player from UCLA.”

Johnny’s brain short-circuited. It was like Christmas, Easter, and his birthday had come early, and all at once. Daniel watched the dawning glee with resignation written all over his face. 

“No way,” Johnny said breathlessly. “No fucking way.”

Daniel rolled his eyes.

“Yes fucking way, and I wouldn’t look too smug about that if I were you. At least I’ve never been on the business end of her right hook.”

Johnny sobered a little. That was true. Ali was tiny, but she packed a surprisingly nasty punch. 

But still…

“Come on LaRusso, you gotta give me this one. All that shit we pulled and neither of us ended up with the girl?” He cackled. “How’s that for your realistic ending?”

Helpless in the face of Johnny’s unabashed amusement, Daniel smiled reluctantly. 

“I guess it’s pretty funny now when you think about it. Wasn’t too hilarious while I was rehabbing my fender.” Johnny winced.

“Yeah, I could’ve told you not to let her get behind the wheel. She’s a crappy driver.”

“Hindsight, man.” They stood in line for the change machine in companionable silence and Johnny debated whether or not he wanted to ask his next question before deciding to go for it.

“You ever see anyone after her? Seriously, I mean?”

Johnny was surprised (and maybe a little disappointed) to see how wistful Daniel looked.

“Yeah, there was one girl but…” he shook his head. “She didn’t end up being an option, living 6,000 miles away and all.” 

Johnny whistled. 

“You sure know how to pick’em, LaRusso.”

“Don’t I know it,” Daniel sighed. “What about you?” he asked tentatively. “Mr. Karate King of the Valley? That's gotta give you a leg up with the ladies.”

“Nah,” Johnny said, then reconsidered. “Well, it does,” he amended smugly, ignoring the face Daniel made, “but nothing serious. After Ali and all the bullshit there, it didn’t seem worth the bother.” He paused. “And now, I don’t even know what I want to do with myself, forget about a girl,” he admitted.

Sensing the slightly morose turn the conversation had taken, Daniel elbowed him. 

“Well, you know what I want to do right now?” Johnny raised an eyebrow questioningly at him. “Kick your ass at Shoot Away.” Johnny scoffed.

“You wish, LaRusso! Shoot Away's my game!”

Daniel did kick his ass at Shoot Away, to Johnny’s shock and resentment. 

“What the hell, dude, how are you this good with a plastic gun?” Johnny exclaimed after Daniel blew his score out of the water not once, not twice, but three times. Daniel chuckled.

“You wanna know the secret?” His eyes sparkled with good humor, and it made them look bigger and more arresting than usual. Johnny nodded, duh. “It’s your elbow. Can I…” he gestured at Johnny’s arm, suddenly a little shy. 

Mistrusting his voice in the moment, Johnny simply nodded again. Swiftly, Daniel aligned Johnny’s arm correctly, and even though Johnny was wearing a sweater, it felt like the skin where his slim, tan fingers touched had been branded. Stepping back, still looking bashful, Daniel tipped his head at him.

“Okay, try again.” Success. Johnny easily nailed both targets. In wonderment, he stared at the gun, then at the other boy. 

“How’d you know that?” Daniel cleared his throat, cheeks a little pink.

“Uh, my uncle was a sniper in the Army. After he got back from his tour, he went a little crazy for these kinds of games, I guess as kind of a replacement hobby, and he taught me all his tricks.” He laughed. “I doubt I could shoot a real gun for shit, but I can knock a virtual pigeon outta the sky from fifty paces.”

“Huh, the uncle your mom is taking care of?” Johnny asked as they moved on from Shoot Away. 

“Uh, no, another on my dad’s side,” Daniel said absently, scanning the arcade. “His brother.”

Johnny stopped short. 

“Your dad…?”

“Is dead,” Daniel confirmed uncomfortably, fidgeting again. “He died when I was eight. So my uncles stepped in for awhile, helped my mom and I while we were figuring things out.”

“Sorry,” Johnny said awkwardly. “I guess I didn’t know that.”

Daniel shrugged, bouncing on his toes. 

“S’okay, you don’t know what you don’t know. It’s been a long time, and my mom and I do okay on our own. Well, we did, before she went back to Jersey.” 

He seemed a little down, now. Johnny groaned to himself. Nice fucking work, Lawrence. Say something to defuse the tension.

“I never knew my dad,” he blurted out. Oh, for chrissakes. “He split when I was a baby, so it was just my mom and me for a long time. We were broke as shit. Then she married Sid.” He wondered if he sounded as bitter about that as he felt.

Apparently so, as Daniel looked at him searchingly.

“You don’t get along with your stepdad?”

Johnny laughed humorlessly. 

“Understatement of the year,” he said. “He, uh, doesn’t think much of me. The feeling is mutual.”

Daniel looked contemplative. 

“All that time we spent messing with each other,” he finally said. “And we probably have more in common than we ever realized. Funny, isn’t it?”

Johnny didn’t particularly think so, but for once he wasn’t especially inclined to fight the point.

“Alright.” He clapped Daniel on the back. “Enough of this depressing shit. Come on. It’s my turn to beat your ass at something.” He paused. “You better not be some kind of ringer at go-karts.”

Daniel was not, it turns out, a ringer at go-karts. He was pretty terrible at go-karts. And he was even worse at putt putt. 

“Jeez, LaRusso, how are you this bad?” Johnny asked incredulously, as yet another neon ball pinged over the rocks and into the fake pond. Daniel scowled.

“Not like I’ve had a lifetime to hone my craft year-round like you Cali boys,” he retorted, leaning over to fish it out. “We got winters in New Jersey.”

“You haven’t lived in New Jersey in two goddamn years.” Johnny waved his club around to punctuate his point (Daniel waved apologetically at the couple behind them, who’d had to duck at the last moment to avoid getting nailed). “I hate to break it to you, but you’re as much a California boy as the rest of us now.”

“Alright, alright, watch where you’re swingin’ that thing,” Daniel said placatingly. He lined up his next shot, aimed carefully, and plonked it straight into the path of a family of four on the other side of the course.

He sighed. Johnny smacked his face into his palm.

“Just watch me next time and try to do what I do.” 

Making sure his hips and shoulders were aligned, Johnny bent over and gave the ball a solid tap. It shot straight and true down the green, bouncing neatly off the break wall and rolling toward the hole, coming to rest just a few inches off from where it needed to be. 

Johnny straightened in satisfaction. 

“Now you try.” 

Uncertainly, Daniel tried to mimic Johnny’s pose, bending over toward the ball. 

Immediately, Johnny noticed that his ass was sticking too far out, something his lizard brain _really_ didn’t mind, but - okay, stop that. 

“Hold on, hold on,” Johnny called out just as Daniel was about to swing. “This is all wrong. You’re too far over, you gotta straighten up a little bit.”

Flustered, Daniel straightened too much and Johnny huffed. Chewing the corner of his mouth, he looked covertly around. 

No one was watching. The couple behind them had apparently given up on putt putt, finding it safer to try some other activity while Johnny was still menacing the course. And they were several holes behind the nearest group ahead of them on account of LaRusso’s acute hopelessness.

“Okay, LaRusso, I’m gonna do something real quick, and I don’t want you to get your panties in a twist about it.”

“Excuse me, whaddya think you’re - oh!” 

Under any other circumstances, the shrill squeak that Daniel let out when Johnny’s hands firmly gripped his hips and pulled them back a few inches would’ve been extremely funny. 

Unfortunately, Johnny was in no shape to notice it, as his higher brain function had completely flatlined the second he noticed how big his hands looked against LaRusso’s narrow little waist and hips. 

He gulped. He’d had some terrible ideas in his time, but this was, no doubt, a top five bad call. Maybe even number one. 

Up close like this, standing still, the size difference between them was more noticeable than when they went back and forth across Miyagi’s yard, Daniel’s whirling kicks and jabs making him seem so much bigger than he actually was.

Now, Johnny could see vividly how much thicker his own arms and chest were, could tell exactly how many inches he had on the other boy (a couple, but maybe not as many as he’d first thought). He could see how LaRusso’s shirt and jacket had ridden up at one point, so that the tip of Johnny’s thumb was _just_ pressing into a tiny, warm patch of skin above the waistline of his jeans. 

Before he could stop himself, he skimmed across it, just once, soft and searing, and the sharp breath Daniel sucked in was enough to make him dizzy. What would Daniel do if Johnny spun him around right now, dragged him in and -

“Um, Johnny?” LaRusso’s voice was pitched several octaves higher than his usual drawl. “Are you - are you finished? Is this okay?”

Johnny snatched his hands back like they'd been burned, clenching them into two tight, trembling fists. Fuck. This was exactly why he’d stayed away. Exactly why. Goddammit. He just couldn’t get himself the fuck in line. 

Panicked, he looked around - had anyone seen? It didn’t seem like anyone was paying attention, thank Christ.

“Yeah,” he said once he'd collected himself, voice only trembling minutely. “Yeah, you can try now, Daniel.”

With one sure little strike, Daniel knocked the ball off its starting pad. It rolled true, arcing perfectly off the barrier and knocking Johnny’s ball out of the way en route to its ultimate destination. Hole in one. Of fucking course.

“Hey, look at that!” Daniel was pleased, but his excitement was muted as he looked back at Johnny, unsure what he’d find. The blonde boy pulled himself together, throwing on an easy grin that didn’t come easily at all.

“Well, what do you expect when you’ve got a sensei like me,” he said, spreading his arms out, all false bravado and bluster. When Daniel turned fully around, Johnny had expected the faint, lingering traces of a blush on his face. (He flushed pretty readily for someone so tan. It would be interesting to know whether or not that went down his whole body. For science.)

What he didn’t expect was for Daniel’s dark eyes - darker than usual, if he wasn’t mistaken - to trace thoroughly up and down the line of his body before landing once again on Johnny’s face. Male pride was the only thing that compelled him to hold that unwavering stare; without it, Johnny would’ve surely been halfway to the parking lot with keys in hand by now. 

Finally, apparently satisfied, Daniel hoisted his putter and turned away, looking back just once to peer at Johnny through the fringe of his hair. Where the fuck had he learned to _do_ that?

“Come on,” he murmured. “Think I’ve had enough of mini-golf. Let’s go get a drink.”

Dumbly, like a puppet on a string, Johnny followed him to the concessions.

*****

Cokes and soft pretzels helped mitigate some - but not all - of the blistering sexual tension that had erupted between them. 

Johnny was under no illusions that it was anything other than that. He wasn’t too school smart, but he prided himself on having a pretty keen sense for when a girl - or otherwise - was interested. And that look LaRusso had given him on the putt putt course? That was interested.

But shit, what could he do about it? It was one thing to try to shut it down when he thought he was alone in panting after LaRusso like a thirsty dog on a hot day. It was a different thing entirely to ignore it when they apparently both had at least some degree of interest in finding a dark corner and tearing each other's clothes off.

Add to that the fact that Johnny had never been much good at denying himself the things he wanted when they were within his reach and, well, you could probably say a recipe for disaster was brewing.

There was also the tiny, inconsequential fact that _they were both guys_ to consider, but that panic attack would have to be saved for when a little more blood was flowing to Johnny’s brain.

He tried very hard not to stare as Daniel popped the last bite of his pretzel past his red lips. God. Now that he knew he probably wasn’t going to get his ass kicked for looking - at least not by Daniel, anyway - he couldn’t stop. 

He fisted his hands tight again, eyeing the little bit of leftover salt that clung to the corner of Daniel’s mouth. When the other boy’s little pink tongue darted out to lick it off, Johnny nearly hyperventilated. LaRusso had to know what he was doing. He had to. 

Daniel sighed. 

“Think it’s time for me to call it a night,” he said regretfully, standing up. “I’ve gotta be up early tomorrow, we’ve got a few orders to fill.”

Johnny was dumbfounded. Wait, that was it? He was having a revelation over here and Daniel wanted to leave? Right when things were (kind of) starting to make sense?

Daniel leaned in, then. 

“Just so you know, Mr. Miyagi has an all-day fishing trip planned for Sunday,” he said, voice deliberately low. “Usually I’d go with him, but a buddy of his is in town, so they’re gonna go instead. So I’m gonna be home. Alone. If you wanted to get some practice in.”

Daniel hesitated. “Think about it,” he said. “If you want to.” He patted Johnny’s shoulder once, squeezing it gently before letting go and heading back to his car.

Johnny took a huge drink of his now-flat Coke and wished desperately that it was beer instead. A lot to unpack, there.

*****

That night, he had another dream. 

It started on the beach, Ali shouting in his ear as rage, ugly and amorphous, blossomed in his chest. LaRusso intervened, giant-eyed and more cocksure than he had any right to be. Johnny knew how this story went. He’d lived it. 

He shoved Ali's radio hard into LaRusso’s chest, pushing until he fell back into the sand. He was driving forward, pressing his advantage, strike first, strike hard, when suddenly, he just...stopped.

He stopped, and he stared down at Daniel, scrawny and sprawled in the sand. Clutching the boombox, looking shocked and more than a little pissed. 

Johnny stopped. He breathed. He bent over, and held out his hand.

“Listen man, I’m sorry about that. I really overreacted,” he apologized. Dream Daniel stared at him, a little wary, but willing to accept the help. Johnny pulled him up and then he just...didn’t let go.

Johnny looked around. The beach was empty, now. Everyone had disappeared - Ali, the Cobra Kais, that shithead Freddie - they were all gone. All of them, except for him. Except for Daniel.

It was quiet, save for the wash of the tide. He was still holding Daniel’s hand. It was smaller than his - but equally rough, and strong, and solid. Johnny looked down at them, joined firmly, and suddenly he felt...good. Content. Centered. 

Johnny wasn’t sure which one of them had moved in closer. He only knew that somehow, there was now little more than a hair’s breadth between them. He was near enough to see the starlight reflected in Daniel’s dark eyes, feel the soft warmth of his breath on his lips. 

Johnny dipped his head down that last millimeter to close the gap - and his eyes silently snapped open. It was dark and quiet in his room. He was alone.

He stared with unseeing eyes up at the ceiling, willing away the sharp, breathless ache in his chest and throat.

*****

For Johnny, there was never any question that he was going to show up that Sunday. There were a lot of things he wasn't sure about, but that wasn’t one of them.

But based on the look on Daniel’s face when Johnny arrived, he could tell it had been in doubt to the other boy, and Johnny felt a dull thrum of shame pound through him at his cowardice the last few weeks.

“Hi,” Daniel said breathlessly, dark eyes alight. Johnny didn’t miss the way his gaze followed the broad curve of his shoulders and biceps, and he wondered - had it always been that way, and Johnny’d just been too wrapped up in his own head to notice?

“Hey,” Johnny said, nervous. Was this the first time he’d ever been truly alone with LaRusso? There’d always been someone else around in the background - Mr. Miyagi, or the Cobras, or Ali, or whoever. It had never been like this.

Neither knew what to do with this new circumstance, it seemed, so they ended up staring silently at each other like a couple of nerds for way longer than Johnny would have ever countenanced with anyone else.

“So…” Daniel started slowly. Johnny’s heart leapt into his throat. “Want to warm up?”

Johnny did a double take. 

“Warm up?” he said dumbly. Daniel smiled, amused.

“Yeah, dumbass, warm up. Kind of got to if you want to spar. What else were you expecting?” His grin - Johnny could now say that it was coy, it was definitely, definitely coy - was widening across his face, crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

To be honest, Johnny hadn’t been sure what he was expecting, but either way, he was relieved that this was the outcome. Tension broken, he smirked.

“Guess I wasn’t expecting you to be so eager to eat dirt right away, LaRusso.”

“Ha!” Daniel tossed back, heading into the yard. “I’m not the one who took a three week vacation. We’ll see who’s laughing later.”

As always, they were pretty evenly matched, so no one was really laughing near the end, especially when the sun reached its apex in the sky, beating hot into Miyagi’s yard despite the slight chill in the late winter air.

“Ugh,” Daniel grunted as Johnny knocked him onto his back with a neat little roundhouse kick. Johnny was going in for the kill shot when Daniel leveraged the sly hook he’d employed in the tournament to take Johnny’s feet out from under him, bringing him down next to him with an “oof!” Tiredly, Daniel thwacked his back.

“Bang, you’re dead,” he said, closing his eyes and tipping his face back into the sun. He yanked his hachimaki down from his head to settle around his neck.

Johnny wondered if Daniel had realized yet that he hadn’t taken his hand off Johnny’s back. He kind of liked the feeling of it there, so he refrained from drawing attention to it.

From his current vantage point, he had the perfect view of the sharp, bronzed lines of LaRusso’s face, slack and sleepy, plus the way his hair - a little overlong and in need of a cut - fell into his eyes. He watched his chest rise and fall, deep and steady, and wondered if he should let this be the end of it.

He should. He should push himself up, make his excuses, and head home. They’d been at it for a few hours - that was about their normal schedule. LaRusso wouldn’t bat an eye if he left now.

Daniel hummed and finally moved his hand, yawning and stretching both arms overtop his head. Slowly, silently, Johnny inched nearer.

“Hmmm, do you want something to drink or - oh!” Daniel had rolled over, expecting Johnny to still be where he’d landed, only to find that he was much, much closer. So close that the tips of their noses were nearly touching. “Oh.” He swallowed, and Johnny tracked the bob of it up and down his throat. “Hey, you.” It was dangerously close to flirtatious, and Johnny felt his stomach twist pleasantly.

“Hey,” Johnny responded, voice rougher than he’d ever heard it before. “Can I ask you something that might seem crazy?” 

Face open and vulnerable, Daniel nodded.

“You ever think there was a reason we couldn’t leave each other alone in high school?” 

Daniel frowned.

“You were mad about Ali, and I - ” Johnny cut him off, shaking his head.

“D’you really think it was just about Ali?”

Johnny couldn’t be certain, but it seemed like Daniel had somehow gotten even closer, mouths barely an inch apart, sharing air.

“What else do you think it was about?” Daniel asked, hushed.

“Daniel?” Johnny responded roughly. “Neither of us is a chick, right?”

“Right?”

“And we’re not in school anymore, yeah?” 

Daniel nodded. 

“Then maybe let’s cut the bullshit.” 

Johnny pushed forward the last half-inch and sealed their mouths together, then, heart hammering in his ears. He pressed one hot hand to Daniel’s hip for balance, pushing his shirt up to get at skin.

The other boy froze for a moment, and Johnny immediately felt sick, thinking he’d fully misread the situation. He wasn’t sure how, but he must have. But then, happy surprise - Daniel went lax, leaning into Johnny and opening for him, pink lips parting to invite his tongue into his mouth.

Johnny licked in immediately, no preamble, groaning helplessly at his first real taste of Daniel. He savored the minty afterburn of the gum he’d been chewing earlier, plus something saltier and richer, something he thought might just be part of his natural flavor. 

It _was_ different, in some ways, kissing a guy - different in the strong, squared lines of his jaw, and the not-unpleasant scrape of invisible stubble against his cheek. But it was also the same - soft, and warm, and wet, and so, _so_ good, better than anything Johnny had ever felt before.

Daniel made a low, needy noise in the back of his throat, cradling the nape of Johnny’s neck with one hand and tangling his fingers into the hair at the crown of his head with the other. He touched his tongue tentatively to Johnny’s - a slick, questioning slide - and then they were off to the races.

In one haphazard motion, Johnny rolled them, mouths fused, nudging his hips into the cradle of Daniel’s thighs, learning the hard, angular line of his body. He ground down hard to ease the building, burning pressure in his groin, and that first push of their clothed, swelling cocks together punched a strangled cry from Daniel’s gut, the broken sound sending the last of Johnny’s functioning brain cells on a kamikaze mission toward his dick. 

The tight friction of their hips in motion had them both rocketing toward something that Johnny wasn’t even totally sure they were ready for or understood, but it was already too late - Daniel’s knees had hitched snug around Johnny’s thighs, feet braced on the ground, and they were utterly gone, meeting each other thrust for thrust, kissing fiercely, mouthing at whatever exposed skin they could reach. 

By chance, Johnny’s tongue flicked over a soft, sensitive patch in the hollow behind Daniel’s ear that had the other boy panting and flexing wildly beneath him. He sucked hard on it, unable to reign in the sharp, heady rush of power that had him pinning one of Daniel’s slender hands in the grass next to his head.

“Fuck,” Daniel whimpered, overstimulated, dark hair hopelessly disheveled. “Oh fuck, I can’t -” his eyes glazed over at a particularly filthy grind of their bodies, and he bit down into Johnny’s shoulder to stifle his moan. 

Johnny keened, the pleasure-pain sparking a dark, primal thrill down his spine. His body was on fire, cock pulsing and aching, a tight band of heat in his gut ready to snap. 

“Daniel,” he gasped into the other boy’s neck, "you close?”

“Yes,” Daniel practically sobbed, drawing his legs up higher, squeezing at Johnny’s hand where it held him down. “Fuck, yes. I need to - I need to -”

He bucked his hips against the thick, hard line of Johnny’s erection once, twice, three times, and that was all it took for him to stiffen and explode, biting his lip to suppress his shout. His helpless writhing sent Johnny careening over the edge too, hips snapping and stuttering through a blinding climax that Johnny was pretty sure had him seeing the actual face of God. 

He kissed Daniel hard to silence his own cry, an artless press of clashing teeth and tangled tongues. It was raw, and dirty, and perfect, and he didn't want it to end.

“Mmph,” he panted when it was over, still twitching and trembling through the aftershocks. He rolled off of Daniel, sprawling on his back in the grass, sticky and boneless. When Daniel finally spoke, his voice was unsteady and disbelieving.

“What...the fuck...was _that_?” 

Johnny looked over at him, then, and he was the definition of fucked out - hair wild, eyes unfocused, flushed and heaving. Even though Johnny had just come like lights out, he already kind of wanted to be on him again. 

Kind of wanted to at least get their shirts off next time - would there be a next time? - so he could examine in better detail just how far down that flush went. Who wanted to waste time questioning things when they had lips and tongues and hands and more skin to explore?

Daniel noticed Johnny staring and his eyes darkened, pupils dilating under the other boy’s hungry gaze.

“We...We should probably talk about what just happened here,” he said hesitantly. 

“Mmm,” Johnny agreed, reaching out now to push his t-shirt up. Daniel inhaled sharply and - oh yes. He did blush all the way down, didn’t he? “We should.” 

Daniel was slender, but there was some lean muscle there - and it was weird but also not weird to see how his nipples had tightened, taut and peaked like a girl’s, but surrounded by firm, flat pecs instead of soft breasts. Experimentally, Johnny pinched one, and the gratifying way Daniel whined and arched violently into it already had Johnny’s dick twitching with interest again. 

“Johnny,” Daniel protested shakily as Johnny continued to explore. “We can’t just - _oh!”_ His head dropped back and his face went slack with pleasure. Curious, Johnny had decided to replace his fingers with his lips, fastening them over one tight point, tonguing and teething at it like he might have if Daniel was a girl. 

Same reaction, apparently.

“You f-fucker,” Daniel stuttered out once Johnny had let him go and he was able to talk again. “This is s-serious, we can’t just ignore -”

“But what if we do?” Johnny interrupted, hovering over him, stroking a long line up and down his side, teasing a little farther under the waistband of his sweats on each downstroke. “What if we ignore, not forever, just for a while? Just for right now.” He dipped down, kissing a stripe from the corner of Daniel’s mouth to his earlobe, sucking it in for one long quivering moment before retracing his path. “Because I kind of really want to get you out of this shirt.”

Johnny felt wild, and wanton, and utterly out of his depth. This was insanity, and if he stopped to think about it for even just a minute, if he stopped to _talk_ about it, every single doubt and fear and reason to panic would come rushing back in and vacuum the air right out of his lungs - so why stop? Why think about it? There would be plenty of time to freak the fuck out later.

Daniel yanked his head down and kissed him fully then, long and hard and possessive, biting at his lower lip.

“Okay,” he finally assented, “okay.”

With barely restrained glee, Johnny had just managed to start dragging the t-shirt up Daniel’s arms when the most horrifying thing possible happened.

“Daniel-san!” came the call from the front drive. “You back there?”

That was one super-effective way to kill a potential hard-on. Daniel shot up in horror. 

“What the fuck?” Johnny hissed, scrambling away and up. “I thought you said he was gonna be gone all day?”

“He was!” Daniel said frantically, pushing his hair back and struggling to pull his shirt back into place. “He doesn’t usually come back from these trips until late!” He looked over at Johnny and his face fell. “Shit, your pants.” Johnny looked down.

“What about - oh fuck.” The heather grey of Johnny’s sweats left little to the imagination. Daniel’s were dark enough that you couldn’t tell the difference, but Johnny was screwed. 

The wash of cold water that hit his face didn't do much to improve his perspective.

“LaRusso, what the hell?” he sputtered and choked, trying to keep his voice low. “Now I’m all wet!”

“Yeah,” Daniel whisper yelled back, tossing the empty watering can aside, “and now it just looks like you’re wet everywhere instead of in one particular place!”

Johnny stared at him. 

“I dunno if I wanna kiss you or kill you.”

“Yeah, yeah, what else is new? Mr. Miyagi!” He called out, affecting great cheer, bouncing over to his mentor. “What’re you doing back so soon?”

“Fish no bite today, so pack up early to come home. Johnny-san!” The old man greeted cheerfully. “Did not expect you to be here still. And…” he looked him over in confusion, “so wet.”

Johnny swallowed nervously. 

"I, uh...got hot," he stammered. Never mind that it was maybe 60 degrees out, if that. Miyagi raised an eyebrow, and Daniel cut in, rambling.

“That's bad news about the fish Mr. Miyagi, too bad. Did you get anything at all?”

Miyagi returned his attention to his student, and Johnny sighed with relief, shoving his sopping hair out of his face.

“Few trout for dinner tonight.”

“Sounds great Mr. Miyagi, that sounds great.” Full of nervous energy, Daniel rocked back and forth on his toes.

“Johnny-san, you stay for dinner once you dry off?”

“Oh, uh, no thanks. That’s very nice of you, but I think I’m ready to go home and take a shower.” A cold one, he thought, a little grumpy.

“Ah. Maybe some other time.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Hey, lemme walk you out, man,” Daniel called after him, coming across the yard in a few steps to draw even with Johnny. Once they were past the gate and safely out of Miyagi’s earshot, he sighed.

“I’m sorry for this,” he said regretfully. “And for this,” he added, plucking at Johnny’s soaking wet shirt. “I thought we’d have a little more time.”

Johnny shrugged, resigned.

“It happens,” he said. “Maybe it was for the best. I'm...not really sure what's going on here, but you're probably right. We should talk about it.” Icy tendrils of panic were starting to creep into his belly, and brutally, he shoved them aside, focusing instead on the crunch of the gravel beneath his feat and the damp, soggy weight of his wet clothes.

Eyeing around the yard - fenced in, and he could still hear Miyagi in the back, so definitely not within earshot or sight lines - he crowded Daniel up against his car, his big doe eyes the best distraction of them all.

“Hey, do you have to work tomorrow?” Daniel shook his head. “Do you think you could get away tonight?” After a moment, he nodded, one small dip of his chin. “Do you...do you wanna come to my place later? Say eight? We can...talk...then.” He held his breath, and he could practically see the wheels turning in Daniel’s head before he finally nodded one last time.

Johnny rustled around in his glove box for a minute, coming up with a crumpled napkin and a pencil to scrawl the address on. He pushed it into Daniel's hands and, checking that the coast was clear one more time, he leaned in and caught his mouth for another long, searing second before pulling away. He just couldn't help it.

“See you tonight,” he said hoarsely, before hopping in his car, not even caring at this particular moment that he was getting water all over his perfect leather seats.

“See you,” he heard Daniel stammer, dazed. Johnny stared at him in the rearview mirror for as long as he could before he disappeared from sight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks through fingers* Oh hey, you're still here, almost 8k words later. I hope. 
> 
> The canon bits that were semi-jossed were obviously some of the Ali/Daniel breakup retcons (though considering it's Daniel discussing from his POV, it still basically works, I think).
> 
> I would say this installment is definitely more self-indulgent than most, because I looooved the idea of a GNS "date" and desperately wanted to write it + the movie bit. But I did have to suspend significant disbelief, because I'm a lil skeptical two young dudes in the 80s, one with probably a significant amount of internalized homophobia, could get away with taking quite so many liberties as they do here.


	4. because the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just too embarrassed for words over this. i've rewritten it so many times, and i actually had to consume liquid courage before posting. 
> 
> don't look at me. don't talk to me. koala kai more mercy please. eep. 
> 
> ok i have to go throw my phone away now so i can't look at this and reflexively delete it once i hit post. a million thanks, as always, for reading. your comments make me smile so hard through the SAD.
> 
> warnings: some homophobic language, typical boys in the 80s, and gratuitous (probably really unrealistic) smutting. just filth. im sorry. if you want to skip the most gratuitous majority of it (there's a lot! i wouldn't blame you!) you can start at "They wrestled for several minutes," and skip down to "Jesus fucking Christ" (sorry Jesus, and sorry to all of you.).

* * *

Johnny lasted the entire ride home without freaking out. 

He was actually pretty proud of himself - not only had he made it through the entire ride home, but he’d also kept his cool all the way through the shower he’d hopped into, then through toweling himself off.

Then he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror - specifically, the half ring of teeth marks that LaRusso had left in the meat of his shoulder. They weren’t too dark, and were already fading - they might not even bruise - but there was no mistaking who’d left them. None of the girls he’d been with had ever branded him so aggressively.

That’s when he lost it.

Taking big, gulping, gasping breaths, he collapsed onto the closed toilet, towel askew, hands buried in his still-wet hair. Breathe. Focus. He tried to remember the guidance from Mr. Miyagi. In, out. In, out. It took a little more time than usual, but it steadied him, eventually.

Okay. So. That had happened. Fuck. That had _happened_. And it had been better than it had any right to be, considering it lasted _maybe_ fifteen minutes, they’d been fully clothed, and they’d done little more than rut like two horny virgins after their first homecoming dance. _Where_ had LaRusso learned to move his hips like that?

Goddamn it. Not the point. Focus.

Johnny was a man of relatively straightforward desires, and when he wanted something, he went after it. Usually, he got it. Maybe not as much lately, but his career batting average was definitely over .500. 

He’d wanted Ali, he’d gotten her (the first time, anyway). He’d wanted to be the best of Cobra Kai, he got it. He’d wanted the All Valley trophy, he’d gotten it (twice). He wanted a girl to mess around with for the night - well, not to brag, but he usually got that, too.

So he wasn’t used to this complex tangle of feelings, warring desires to both _have_ Daniel and run far, far away from him. They went against his nature, which is probably why it had been so simple for him to ignore the confusion and just _take_ when LaRusso was within five feet of him. They were both willing, weren’t they? Why overthink it?

He was going to have to think this through, though, whether he wanted to or not. This wasn’t some fun spring break fling or one night stand. This was different. This was...this was dangerous.

Whatever that had been earlier, it felt like it had been a long time coming. The animosity between the two of them had always seemed just a little too intense to be real, like it was a placeholder for...something else. Something scarier. There’d always been an underlying thrum to all of their interactions; an invisible tug that drew them to one another even when every single other person in the room was trying to keep them apart.

But just because he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to rail LaRusso into next week didn’t mean he had to - to date him, or something. That was just nuts. Johnny wouldn’t claim to be the brightest bulb - he knew what his strengths were - but he wasn’t dumb, and he definitely didn’t have some kind of death wish. 

In his sophomore year, there’d been a kid in the year above him who’d been the subject of some whispers. He hadn’t been big, and tough, and intimidating the way Robby was; he was just average, and a little on the skinny side - kind of like LaRusso. Quiet, too (very unlike LaRusso). He’d had a couple of friends, but seemed to mostly keep to himself, and in return no one really bothered with him either.

That all changed after Winter Formal.

Johnny didn’t know the full story - he’d been grounded, and for once Sid was home for the weekend so he hadn’t been able to sweet talk his mom out of the punishment - but he’d heard enough to know that the kid had been caught with his pants down, literally, with some geek from Palisades High. After that, it’d been open season - locker graffiti, pushing him around in the hallways, name calling, swirlies - and worse. Nothing was off-limits.

Ali had been furious about the whole thing, and hadn’t taken it well at all when Johnny, feeling sick inside, had shrugged it off and said the little fag had been asking for it. It had sparked their first real blowout as a couple.

Eventually, the kid got jumped in the locker room after fifth period PE. It was bad, and he was pulled out of school not too long after that. Last Johnny’d heard, he’d been transferred, gone off to summer camp and come back with a crew cut and a girlfriend.

That hadn’t been the first time Johnny realized just how bad it could be to even be caught _looking_ at men for too long (he’d been living with Sid for years at that point, after all), but it’d been the lesson that had made the deepest mark. 

So anyway, with LaRusso, whatever he was feeling would have to burn itself out eventually. It always did. And when that happened, then maybe the two of them could go back to interacting normally with each other (or, well, _start_ acting normally with each other, though Johnny wasn’t even sure what that would look like at this point).

In the meantime, though...could they get away with having some fun? Was that possible? Otherwise, the only option was to just fully remove themselves from the situation and hope that time and space and a healthy dose of denial resolved the issue. 

Johnny knew the latter was probably the wiser course of action. He knew his ass was total grass if anyone _ever_ found out about this bout of temporary insanity.

But then again, he’d never had an orgasm like the one he’d had earlier. And while he knew that shouldn’t factor into his decision...he was only human, and it had been a really fucking good orgasm. Plus, he didn’t really _want_ to cut Daniel out of his life if he could help it.

But it would have to be Daniel’s choice as well, Johnny reminded himself. And Daniel, as hotheaded and combative as he could be sometimes, often only acted that way to hide the fact that at his core, he was made almost entirely of marshmallow.

He didn’t keep people at arm’s length the way Johnny did. He wasn’t prickly. He _loved_ , easily and unreservedly, and with seemingly little regard for whether or not it was going to backfire spectacularly on him. It was written all over his face, all the time: he loved his mom, he loved the old man, he loved his weird extended family in Jersey, he’d loved Ali, he loved that girl from Japan that he still made oblique references to sometimes. He just loved.

It made Johnny’s stomach churn, to wonder if Daniel felt - could ever feel - affection close to anything like that for him. 

Anyways, Johnny didn’t have that problem. In the grand scheme of his life, all almost-nineteen years, he’d loved - _really_ loved - exactly two people: his mom, and Ali. Only one of them still loved him, and sometimes he wondered. So. That was that. 

On autopilot, he combed his hair, and brushed his teeth, and dressed. Then, he caught another glimpse of himself in the mirror and scowled. Without even realizing it, he’d put on his stock first date outfit - nicer jeans and a navy sweater that Ali had always said made his eyes look bluer. Nope, nope, _nopenopenopenope_. He yanked the sweater off and exchanged it for a less nice (but still blue) t-shirt.

He also spent some time eyeballing his cologne, debating. He wore it as often as he didn’t. Did it mean something if he put it on tonight? 

Ugh. Forget it. LaRusso had been all over him when he’d reeked of two hours spent working out outside. He clearly wasn’t too picky. This was stupid. 

They probably wouldn’t even do anything anyway, would probably just agree that this was a bad idea and shake hands like gentlemen and part ways.

(Ten minutes later, he compromised with a half splash to his pulse points. Sue him. It smelled really damn good.)

He spent the remainder of his time making a pretty decent effort to clean up the small space. It wasn’t a total pig sty, but he still lived alone and he wasn’t always as diligent about the dishes as maybe he should be. Plus, he had a bad habit of leaving his records and cassettes scattered after he’d rifled through them for what he wanted. 

(He’d also sucked his teeth, counted backwards from ten and changed the sheets on the bed before he made it, refusing to think too hard or at all about what he was doing. They were way overdue for a switch and he was already cleaning up anyway.)

The clock ticked down to 7:45 and he didn’t have anything left to do to kill time. Shit. What did he normally do when he was home alone? Christ, he needed to get a grip.

He flopped onto the futon he’d convinced his mom he needed instead of the stuffy couch she’d wanted to buy, thumbing through a back issue of _Black Belt_ that he hadn’t managed to get through yet. But the silence, punctuated only by the sound of the pages as he turned them, was oppressive, so he flipped on the stereo. This ate approximately...three minutes. He groaned, and dropped the magazine over his face.

As he always had when his brain got too busy let him sit peacefully, Johnny closed his eyes and let the song wash over him, comforting white noise to replace his noisy thoughts. Breathing exercises were all well and good, but music was how Johnny truly meditated. With the help of his headphones, Walkman, and a solid mixtape, there was nothing he couldn’t figure out.

By the time the door buzzer sounded, Johnny was almost feeling relaxed again. That ended just as soon as he opened the door to an extremely nervous looking Daniel LaRusso - scrubbed clean, freshly combed and looking distractingly good in olive green. 

By the way Daniel’s gaze flicked up and down over him before bouncing away, Johnny figured he returned the sentiment.

“Hey,” Johnny said neutrally. “Come on in.” He closed the door behind LaRusso, keeping his hands to himself. The other boy seemed so tense that he might snap in half if Johnny so much as looked at him the wrong way.

“Nice place,” Daniel said, overly polite but sincere, taking the whole room in. His eyes lingered on the freshly made bed for just a second more than appropriate before his throat bobbed and he looked away. 

“Thanks,” Johnny said, folding his arms and hanging back. “My stepdad pays the rent,” he admitted reluctantly, not wanting to operate under false pretenses about how he was able to live like this. He wasn’t sure why that was important. “I think mostly to keep me outta his sight as much as possible.”

“Well, it sure beats South Seas,” Daniel replied wryly, still looking around, smiling briefly at Rambo the bonsai, at home in its little nook. “Oh hey, great record collection!” he exclaimed with genuine enthusiasm after a minute, taking a few steps over before he could stop himself. He paused, hands hovering over the stereo cabinet before looking back at Johnny. “Can I…?”

Normally the answer would be “not on your life, bud” - not even Bobby was allowed to touch Johnny’s records. But he guessed tonight he was feeling generous, because he shrugged amicably and nodded.

“Be my guest.”

To his credit, LaRusso was careful, even reverent as he carded through the stack, making appropriately appreciative noises when he came across an artist he liked. (Or snorting when he was less impressed, but whatever, it wasn’t Johnny’s problem if he had no taste. Zebra was badass.) 

About halfway through he paused, made a shocked sound, and turned to give Johnny the stink eye.

“You asshole,” he said, accusatory. “I fuckin’ knew you were lying.” He brandished the vinyl in his hands - _Fleetwood Mac_ , by Fleetwood Mac. “Who the hell lies about liking Stevie Nicks?”

Johnny bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“Man’s gotta have some secrets,” he defended. Daniel squinted at him, suspicious.

“Yeah, sure, what’s next - am I gonna find _Born to Run_ in here somewhere, too?” 

Abruptly, Johnny stopped laughing.

“Don’t even joke about that, LaRusso.” 

Daniel snickered to himself, still sifting through the cabinet.

Johnny tapped his fingers, thinking over his next step. Most of the tension from earlier had dissipated, but he was a little afraid of saying anything that might bring it roaring back.

“You want a beer?” Was what he finally decided on. LaRusso shrugged.

“Sure,” he answered easily. When Johnny looked at him with surprise, he rolled his eyes.

“Just because I don’t drink as much as you do doesn’t mean I’m some kinda nun.” He rummaged around in his pockets. “Speaking of which…a-ha!” He pulled, triumphantly, a little plastic baggy from his pockets. “So you stop your bitchin’ about Halloween.”

He dangled it at Johnny, who plucked it from his fingers with one hand, grin spreading across his face as he surveyed the contents - a neatly rolled little joint.

“LaRusso! I didn’t know you had it in you. Where’d you even get this?”

“Freddie - y’know, from my old apartment complex - knows a guy, and he owed me a favor, so.”

Johnny wrinkled his nose in a little bit of disgust.

“You still talk to Freddie?” Daniel laughed, accepting the beer that was tossed his way and cracking it open.

“Nah, not too much anymore. But right before we left for Okinawa, I helped him out with some pretty serious girl trouble. Not the kind of thing you forget, so he was happy to have this to call it even.”

“Huh.” Johnny looked down the bag before smiling, a little sly. “You wanna light it up?”

Now Daniel looked a little uncertain.

“I dunno, Johnny, maybe it’s not such a -” Johnny clapped him on the shoulder.

“Come on, Daniel, live a little,” he goaded. “You don’t like it, we can stop, but what’s the harm?”

Daniel’s gaze zeroed in on his hand, firm and warm against his sweater, not touching skin but close to it. Johnny didn’t remove it.

“Okay,” he relented. “I guess we could try it.”

Fifteen minutes later, after Johnny had taken all his usual precautions - this _was_ still Encino, after all - they were relaxing back into the futon, passing the joint back and forth.

“This is pretty decent shit,” Johnny said lazily, already feeling looser than he had when Daniel had first arrived. He smiled dopily over at the other boy, the lightweight, who was sinking back into the cushion, eyes half-lidded. “My regards to Freddie.”

“Mmmhmm,” Daniel acknowledged, taking another draw from his beer. Johnny stared unabashedly at the line of his throat as he swallowed, and after a minute Daniel noticed him looking and blushed. Johnny scooted a little closer. Maybe he was a lightweight, too, with the way the smoke and the alcohol were making him think things he’d told himself he wouldn’t.

“Did you know,” he said, voice low, “that when you blush, you blush all over?”

Holding his gaze, Daniel’s eyes widened. They were dilated - but whether it was from the smoke or...something else, Johnny wasn’t quite sure. Some combination, probably.

“N-no,” he said breathlessly. 

Johnny had been trying pretty hard to keep his hands to himself, but he should’ve known it’d be ten times harder as soon as he suggested lighting up. He sometimes got a little more...enthusiastic...when he was high, and he probably should’ve thought about that.

As it was, he managed to limit himself to picking at the hem of LaRusso’s sweater, enjoying the texture of it under his fingertips.

“Johnny…” 

“So we probably shouldn’t do this again, right?” Johnny murmured. “For a lot of good reasons.”

“Right,” Daniel said, looking like he knew what exactly none of those reasons were. “We’re both guys, for one. And I, uh - I know how I feel about that, but I dunno how you feel about that.”

“You do?” Johnny asked, a little startled. Daniel chewed his lip.

“Well I’ve - I’ve known for awhile that I’m a little...different,” he said hesitantly. “I stick to girls, because I like them fine. But before we moved out this way, some, uh, stuff happened. Nothing too far, but I liked it enough to know...well, to just know.”

Johnny was floored. Saint LaRusso apparently wasn’t much of a saint at all. Damn.

“How do - how do _you_ feel about it?” Daniel repeated Johnny’s question back at him. Well, wasn’t that the $64,000 query.

“I dunno,” Johnny admitted, head lolling back against the cushion. “I’ve only ever been with girls, but...I’ve noticed guys, too. I just never wanted to do anything about it before. I don’t really know what that means.” His heart felt like it was stuck in his throat. “I do know I’ve never felt as hot with anyone as I did earlier. With you.”

Daniel looked down at Johnny’s hand, his own fingers hovering like he wanted to touch it before deciding against it.

“Me too,” he whispered. “I mean, I’ve only been with a few people like that. And just one - one all the way. But today was...something else.” 

His eyes had gone out of focus just thinking about it, and if the subject matter weren’t so serious Johnny might feel compelled to do something about that. But even his slightly substance-addled mind realized this wasn’t quite the time.

“So what should we do?” Johnny asked, hushed. “I mean, we can’t, like, _date_.” Daniel glanced up at him once before looking down again.

“Right,” he agreed, voice unreadable. “I know.” He backed off, then, as far away as he could get on the little futon, and Johnny felt oddly bereft. “So then maybe we just...stop before it gets too out of hand. Cut it out. Stop seeing each other. Maybe after a while it’ll go away.”

The words were an exact echo of what Johnny had been thinking when he was alone earlier and had had time to contemplate, boldness evaporating with every mile that took him further from the other boy - but now that it was LaRusso saying them, he found he wasn’t inclined to agree.

(Maybe that was just an ingrained reflex after all this time.)

“Do you really think that’ll work?” he asked skeptically. “It hasn’t yet.”

Daniel looked conflicted.

“I don't know, but what else are we supposed to do? We both agree this can’t happen.” Johnny took a chance and moved in closer. Daniel didn’t move away.

“I know, but,” he looked up and down Daniel once, twice, before connecting with his eyes again. “I’m having a really hard time remembering that when you’re this close.”

“So then maybe I should go.” Daniel started to clumsily scramble up and Johnny grabbed him loosely by the wrist to stop him.

“Hey, wait, no, you don’t have to do that.” Daniel eyed him uncertainly. “You probably shouldn’t drive yet, at least. I can behave, I promise.”

Daniel opened his mouth to speak, but his breath caught in his throat as he stared at his wrist, still trapped between Johnny’s fingers. Abruptly, Johnny realized this was the first skin to skin contact they’d had all night.

“I can behave,” Johnny repeated, less definitive this time, more like a question. His thumb slipped once against the thin, soft skin near Daniel’s pulse, and it was like dropping a lit match into kerosene. 

Who moved first, Johnny couldn’t say. All he knew for sure was that one moment they were staring at each other, air heavy with tension, and the next they were tangled together on the futon, gasping into each other’s mouths, careless and desperate and hungry. 

It felt just as good as it had earlier - better, even - and Johnny knew that if they let themselves go, it could be over just as quickly as well. But if they were gonna do this again, and maybe for the last time, he wanted a little more than “wham, bam, thank you ma’am”. They had all night, and nowhere to be, and most of a pretty solid joint left. 

“Wait,” he finally said hoarsely, pulling back. “Wait.”

“What?” Daniel asked, clutching at Johnny’s t-shirt, impatient. Johnny nudged them back against the cushion, settling in more comfortably, moaning with approval as he felt Daniel’s curious hands push under his t-shirt and start tracing the muscled planes of his chest. 

“Nothing,” he answered, barest hint of a tremor in his voice. “Just don’t want this to be over too soon.”

Languidly, he returned to kissing Daniel, slowly coaxing his mouth open, enjoying the soft, slick press of their lips. He gasped and shuddered a little when the other boy scratched an experimental pass across the small of his back with blunt nails, deepening the kiss. 

Johnny tore himself away, breathing hard, reveling in Daniel’s whine of protest.

“Daniel?” he asked, panting. “You ever tried shotgunning before?”

Daniel licked his lips and shook his head, eyes heavy lidded with desire. Johnny groaned, unable to resist the temptation to chase his tongue back into his mouth for a few dizzying minutes before remembering himself. They couldn’t let a perfectly good number go to waste. 

He took it in one hand and stroked Daniel’s bottom lip with the thumb of his other, inhaling hard through his nose when the little smartass nipped at it. Focus.

“Just follow my lead, okay?” he rasped. Taking a decent-sized hit, he held it for a second before opening his mouth over Daniel’s and sealing their lips. The tiny little noise Daniel made in the back of his throat as Johnny passed the puff of smoke between them had him adjusting himself as subtly as he could. 

Between the two of them, they traded off, finishing the joint that way. It was a good thing they were already sprawled out, because the first time Daniel took a hit and passed the smoke to Johnny instead of the other way around, his legs turned to water.

Once it was done, he carefully set the roach aside and focused back down on Daniel, soft and lazy against him. Well, mostly soft. Johnny pressed his hips down experimentally, and the sharp, zinging pleasure as Daniel’s hips canted sinuously up in response was so good he had to close his eyes.

“Shit,” he cursed softly, as firm, warm lips began tracing a damp, lingering path down his neck. The indecent noise Johnny made when Daniel’s mouth clamped down and sucked was one he hadn’t really known he had in him, and okay, he wasn’t really sure his erection could be ignored anymore.

They were kissing again, needy and a little sloppy, tongues dueling in a wet press as Daniel worked his hands farther up Johnny’s shirt, tracing a blunt path up the line of his abs before tweaking one of his nipples and - _holy shit!_

Johnny yelped, white hot heat zipping straight down his belly into his groin. Is that what that felt like? He’d always just figured they were form over function - none of the girls he’d been with had ever bothered, and neither had he, assuming it was exclusively a tits thing. But he guessed he should’ve known how incredible it would feel based on Daniel’s reaction earlier.

Daniel laughed a little against Johnny’s skin, working back down his neck. He got an extra pinch in for good measure before Johnny pinned him back down, itching to regain control.

“What do you want, Daniel?” he asked roughly. Daniel bit his lip, eyes dark and aroused.

“I want…” he paused, unable to come up with the words. “I want…” 

He pushed Johnny off. Confused, stomach sinking, the other boy went, sitting back on his heels as Daniel hoisted himself upright. Then, with no warning, Daniel crawled into his lap, straddling him. He yanked his sweater off in one fluid tug and stole a long, dirty kiss from Johnny’s bruised, swollen lips, burying his hands in his blonde hair.

Chest heaving, he pulled away.

“Tonight. I want tonight.” They looked at each other for a long moment. “Does that answer your question?” 

Wordlessly, Johnny pulled him down again, tracing his lips with his tongue and bringing his hands down to knead Daniel’s ass. He was rewarded with a delicious little mewl as the other boy melted into Johnny’s hands.

Now, with miles of skin before him, Johnny couldn’t stop touching. He’d thought he might be real weirded out at first, doing all of this with another guy, but it turns out the mechanics - and the end result - were largely the same. He laid wet kisses up and down Daniel’s neck and collarbone before dipping his head down to suckle hard on one nipple, then the other, grinning as Daniel held on helplessly, moaning and fisting his hands in Johnny’s hair as the blonde had his way with his body.

Finally, he pulled away, taking a lengthy, satisfied look at the trembling, aroused wreck of a boy in his arms. Yep, still got it. With the barest hint of trepidation, he fingered the button of Daniel’s jeans for a few seconds before popping it open and nudging the zipper down suggestively.

“Daniel,” he said slowly, exhaling shakily. Dark eyes locked on his. “Do you wanna move this to the bed?” It felt a little bit like the point of no return.

Daniel dropped his forehead against Johnny’s, nuzzling their noses, oddly affectionate.

“Yeah,” he sighed, brushing their kiss-bitten lips together.

Okay. So. This was happening. For real. A little overwhelmed, Johnny nestled his face into the cradle of Daniel’s neck and shoulder to collect himself for a moment. They both stumbled to their feet, and after a split second of debate, Johnny hauled Daniel over his shoulder in a truly impressive display of strength, if he did say so himself.

“Hey!” Daniel protested, beating at his back, any gentleness forgotten. “I ain’t no girl!”

“No, but you weigh about as much as one,” Johnny grinned, tossing him on the bed with an “oof!”. Without preamble, he dragged Daniel’s jeans off in one fell swoop. Goddamn, he was smooth.

His self congratulating ended right about the time he looked down at Daniel in nothing but his boxers and realized - welp, this was it. Just one layer left. His breath hitched, and his hands hovered, indecisive, over the waistband. He lifted his gaze to lock eyes with Daniel, who seemed just as torn. 

Eventually, the other boy released the breath he’d been holding in a great whoosh and shoved his shorts down himself, blush spreading again. He leaned back on his hands, fully bare, looking like he was resisting the urge to curl in on himself. He was also sporting a surprisingly impressive erection, longer than Johnny would’ve thought from looking at him.

So. It’s not like Johnny had never seen a naked guy before - he played sports, after all. But, well, this was the first time he’d ever been in the same room with a naked guy, while intending to also get naked himself, in order to rub their equally naked bodies together and - okay, he just needed a moment to process all of this.

“Is this, uh, okay? I realize it’s not really much to look at,” Daniel said, uncertain, mistaking the prolonged silence for reluctance. “I’ve got the metabolism of, like, a rabbit and I’ve never been able to build much muscle -”

“Daniel,” Johnny cut him off firmly, yanked from his inner turmoil. “Shut up.” He leaned over and captured his mouth, firm but more tender than he probably should have allowed. But fuck it, Daniel was _hot_ and he shouldn’t talk about himself that way. He pulled back, and straightened up before he said something super mushy and girly about how beautiful he was and how pretty his big glowing brown eyes were in the soft lamplight.

With little fanfare and before he could overthink it (if it ended up that they were playing gay chicken, he definitely wasn’t going to _lose_ ), Johnny yanked off his shirt and shoved down his pants and underwear, and now Daniel was the one staring.

“You, you’re...” his voice shook a little. “Wow.”

Johnny knew what he looked like, worked hard at it and was proud of it, but there was something about the reverent way Daniel was gazing and speaking at him that made him, for once, flush. Daniel’s little awed smile abruptly turned wicked.

“You know,” he said, propping his head up in his hand, “you blush all over, too.”

Johnny gaped at him, and then tackled him back onto the bed.

“You little shit -”

They wrestled for several minutes, mussing up the covers, with neither really trying to get the upper hand. Eventually, the grappling turned into grasping hands and deep, fierce kisses.

Daniel was half-sprawled out overtop Johnny, and as he shifted over further, the first accidental touch of their bare, precum-slick cocks had Johnny moaning brokenly into Daniel’s mouth, sideswiped by the pleasure.

“Daniel, this is…” he trailed off, panting hard, hips grinding up mindlessly.

“I know,” Daniel groaned, shifting closer, biting and licking at Johnny’s neck. In response, Johnny grabbed at whatever he could reach to reel him in - in this instance, a handful of ass. Johnny’s fingers dug in, and brushed against something that dragged a sharp, airless cry from Daniel and sent his hips bucking backwards.

Stunned, Johnny pulled back and gave him a once over. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, baffled. Embarrassed and trying to cover it up, Daniel nodded furiously.

“Yeah, yeah, just forget about it,” he said, diving in again, peppering kisses along Johnny’s jaw. That was distracting and all, but…

“What _was_ that?” Johnny asked slowly. Daniel sighed, resting his head against Johnny’s shoulder.

“What do you _think_ it was?” he asked, muffled against skin.

“I...it was…” Suddenly, Johnny blushed bright red. Again. That was twice in one night. It better not get to be a habit where LaRusso was concerned. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“And you... _liked_ that?” Daniel started squirming away, and Johnny grabbed him tighter. “Hey, stop! Slow down. I’m not judging you, I’m just....asking.” A sharp nod against his shoulder. “Come on, will you look at me? I just…don’t really get it.”

Reluctantly, Daniel lifted his head to meet Johnny’s eyes.

“You’ve probably done enough locker room shit-talking to have an okay handle on the mechanics of sex between men,” he said grimly. Johnny scowled.

“Yeah, and I’m obviously open enough to it to be naked on a bed with you,” he shot back. Instantly, Daniel looked apologetic.

“I know. You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just hard not to get defensive. I know what they do to guys who like this kinda thing.” The wheels were turning Johnny’s head.

“Okay, but so, have you like... _done_ that with someone before?” Alright, maybe he wasn’t as open to it as he thought, as his voice pitched higher and higher with nerves. “Oh my god, was the person you made it with a _guy_?” Daniel smacked him, not gently.

“No, you dingus! I had sex with a girl.” He rolled away and onto his back, crossing his arms, defensive. “I’ve never done... _that_. Not with anyone. But I’ve tried...some stuff. On - on myself.” In the dim glow of the room, his eyes were huge and wide and a little scared, but he didn’t look away from Johnny. 

Oh. That was…that was a thought.

“How?” Johnny asked, voice suddenly pitched several octaves lower. Daniel was beet red absolutely everywhere by this point.

“Well, you can use...that is, I used...my fingers.”

Unbidden, Johnny was beset by an absolutely filthy fantasy - Daniel, alone, in the dark, fisting his own dick, trembling and working a finger inside himself. And maybe he was a little nervous about doing it, breathing hard, struggling to take the pressure before it finally popped in, toes curling into the burn - oh fuck. 

Johnny resisted the urge to put his hands to his face.

“I see,” was all he could think to respond with, husky and barely there, struggling to get himself under control.

Daniel peered at him anxiously, snapping fingers in front of his face.

“Hello, Johnny? Earth to Johnny.” Johnny looked over at him. “This doesn’t have to be a thing. I’m not asking you to do that. I’m...more than fine with what we’re doing here.” He chewed his lip. “Just...maybe be careful if you’re gonna play grab-ass.”

Making a split second decision, he rolled into Daniel’s personal space, cupping his hip. 

“Can I see you do it?” he asked in a low voice. Daniel’s mouth formed a silent “o” of shock.

Was that too much to ask? It was just that now that Daniel had put the thought in his head, it was all he could think about, even though thirty seconds before he’d been unable to even wrap his head around the _idea_ that someone might like that. 

Or maybe what he hadn’t been able to get his head around was the idea that Daniel might like that with someone who wasn’t _him_.

In for a penny....

“Or…” Johnny gulped. “Could I try it on you?” 

Daniel pressed his lips together, wavering.

“Are you makin’ fun of me?” he asked, voice small, and the idea that he might think that was so unbearable, so fucking insane that Johnny had no recourse but to grab his hand and bring it down to his dick so that Daniel could see exactly how much fun Johnny was not making of him.

“Does this feel like I think any of this is funny?” Johnny gritted out. Daniel whimpered, flexing his fingers around the hard shaft and stroking up and down, just a few times, and the noise Johnny made was obscene and humiliating, it felt _so good_.

“Alright,” Daniel agreed breathlessly. “Alright, we can try it. Do you have any lube?”

Luckily, he did, and after a few seconds rummaging in the bedside drawer, he found the half-empty tube and tossed it on the bed. Daniel stared down at it like he couldn’t quite believe any of this was happening.

“Okay, so,” he was doing his best to keep his voice even, “I think this will probably go better if I - if I go first before you do anything.” 

Johnny nodded, wondering if he even knew what he was getting himself into, if this time he really had plunged himself too far into the deep end, without a life vest or a guard on duty.

Hands shaking a little, Daniel slicked up his fingers and reached behind himself, letting out a low, nervous exhale as they reached their target. Johnny found himself watching every microexpression on his face, torn between looking at Daniel and looking behind him at whatever his hand was doing. After a moment, Daniel’s chin dropped to his chest and he let out a low moan that ended on a gasp.

“Th-that’s one,” he said, more to fill the thick, tense silence than for any other reason. His head fell back onto the pillow and his eyes fluttered shut as Johnny watched, desperately fascinated and desperately hard, as the arm arcing behind his body began to flex and shift. Johnny knew the instant he added the second finger based on the little half sob he let out, hips twitching and dick jerking, and oh god, he _really liked this_.

“How often do you do this to yourself?” Johnny demanded, voice gravelly with want.

“I - _oh!_ \- I dunno, often enough.” Daniel buried his face into the pillow, groaning, as his hand sped up, fucking himself in earnest now. Suddenly he arched back violently with a short, sharp cry. “Prostate,” he bit out at Johnny’s alarmed glance. “Nerves. Feels really - feels s-ssssooo good,” he slurred. “I can’t - I can’t - ” He reached his free hand down to grasp at his cock, weeping now, and Johnny knocked it away.

“No,” he said firmly, voice like steel. “Not yet. It’s my turn now.”

Daniel sucked in air, watching Johnny, fucked out and desperate. Johnny’s stomach flipped, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than for that look to be because of Johnny’s hands, because of what Johnny was doing to him. Slowly, with a reluctant whine, Daniel removed his fingers and scooted in closer to the other boy. 

Johnny used the lube on his fingers the way he’d seen Daniel do it, then he bent his head down to his ear. 

“If this sucks, stop me and we’ll finish however you want,” he murmured softly. Beyond words, Daniel nodded his head, pressing his lips briefly to the underside of Johnny’s jaw. 

Heart in his mouth, now, Johnny took a deep, fortifying breath and trailed his hand to Daniel’s ass, pausing gently at the top of the cleft for a brief second before slipping down. It was a pretty tight, warm squeeze as is, and he wasn’t totally sure he’d be able to make lightning strike twice until... _there_. Daniel gasped and jerked in his arms, and holy fuck, this was already hotter and dirtier than anything Johnny had ever done before in his entire life.

Taking his time and gathering up his courage, Johnny stroked gently over the tight hole, noting how it twitched in response to his finger, how slick it already was from Daniel’s earlier explorations. In his ear, Daniel was making hard, hurt little noises, pushing back like he wanted more, and so he gave it to him, easing one thick finger past the ring of muscle, working it in up to the first knuckle.

Johnny had to take a time out, then, completely overcome. It was...intense. Searing hot, Daniel’s body gripping his finger like a velvet vice. He couldn’t even imagine fitting another one inside, let alone his...his...well. 

Anyway. He hadn’t known it would be like this.

Against his body, Daniel had gone rigid, and Johnny nudged the side of his head with his nose.

“Daniel?” he asked, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he whispered eventually, ragged around the edges. “Yeah, I’m okay. Your...your fingers are bigger than mine.”

Johnny didn’t know what to do with that, but he knew his cock liked hearing it.

“Is that a bad thing?” he huffed, ignoring the hot, pulsing ache in his groin. Immediately, Daniel shook his head hard.

“No,” he said, like the word hurt to get out. “It’s not.”

Johnny relaxed, relieved, kissing his neck soothingly.

“Do you think you’ll want another?” he asked after a moment, sliding his finger deeper inside as he did, watching goosebumps erupt from the smooth skin of Daniel’s arms. Daniel was silent for a long time, then he nodded.

“Yeah,” is all he said, and that was all Johnny needed to hear. 

The second one was a little harder to manage - Daniel was looser because of his own stretching, but Johnny DID have bigger fingers, and adding another meant he had to push past his own nerves about hurting him.

“It’s okay,” Daniel panted, pushing back against the second digit as Johnny tried to edge it in. “It doesn’t - it doesn’t hurt. Not like you think. It burns, but it’s - _ohhhh_ \- ” Johnny felt the tip of his finger slip past the rim “ - _nnngh_ , it’s a good burn.”

Johnny wasn’t totally convinced by that, but he guessed he wouldn’t be the authority. Either way, he was enjoying the hell out of watching LaRusso take it like a champ and that was enough for him. 

With that thought in mind, he pressed his luck and plunged both fingers down, a sharp, authoritative thrust into the snug space, and he was unprepared for the way Daniel’s body thrashed and shuddered as he pushed both digits in as far as he could go. That must have been that - that prostrate thing that Daniel had been talking about. 

Experimentally, he tried to replicate the angle, slamming in again.

“Jesus _fuck_!” Daniel shouted, back bowing, hips bucking wildly. Yup, Johnny thought cheerfully, that was it. Armed with this new knowledge, he set to work, establishing a steady cadence that had LaRusso wailing and tossing his dark head back into the pillow, thrusting his hips back wantonly every time Johnny pushed them deep into that seemingly magic spot.

“H-how are you this - this - this fucking - _ohhhgoddd_ \- good at this?” Daniel choked out, disbelieving.

“Quick study,” Johnny grunted, cheeks flushed from exertion, mouthing at LaRusso’s neck and wondering if he’d be able to grind up to get some friction on his cock, which was frankly so hard and throbbing that it hurt.

Like some kind of mind reader, Daniel tossed his leg over Johnny’s hip, not only opening himself up so that it was easier for Johnny to drive into him, but also bringing him close enough that he could easily get his hand down and around Johnny’s dick, pulling on it in long, firm strokes.

“Fuck,” Johnny whimpered, fire spreading through his belly. “Oh my god, oh fuck, I’m gonna come.” 

In response, Daniel turned his head toward Johnny’s face and caught his mouth, curling his free arm around his neck. He was an inferno; his mouth was as hot and wet as his ass, and Johnny couldn’t help but push into it with his tongue.

Shaking and ready to break, Daniel kept up his slow, steady tug on Johnny’s dick until Johnny was whining into his mouth, hips stuttering, on the edge of a supernova.

“You’re so good,” Daniel whispered brokenly against his lips. “You’re making me feel s-so good, fuck, please - ” 

Jolted by the words, Johnny’s cock stiffened and swelled and released so hard that he shot across Daniel’s chest. 

His vision whited out for several endless seconds, and when he came back to himself he was still buried two fingers deep inside Daniel, the other boy’s breath coming in harsh, desperate little gasps as he fisted at his neglected arousal, one frustrated tear streaking down his face. Oh, hell no.

Johnny knocked his hand away, ignoring the vicious cry of protest and taking it into his own strong grip. He set a brutal pace of short, sharp, twisting strokes, driving in with the fingers of his other hand until Daniel’s orgasm barreled into him with such force that after the first cry and thrash of his hips, he rode it out silently and rigidly, coming all over Johnny’s fist, ass contracting around the fingers inside him in pulsing, maddening waves. 

Afterward, he dropped limply into the crook of Johnny’s neck, not even wincing when Johnny withdrew his fingers with a filthy sucking noise. Ew. Grimacing, the blonde reached for the tissues he kept near his bed, stretching as far as he could to grab them without jostling the half comatose boy draped over him. He wiped off what he could haphazardly before collapsing back onto the bed, boneless, letting his mind go blissfully blank.

Jesus fucking Christ. They hadn’t even fucked, and that had been the best sexual experience of Johnny’s life. He was so wrung out he’d be surprised if his dick so much as twitched anytime within the next 24 hours.

It was weird - when it came to sex, he usually _tried_ to be a pretty considerate partner (that was one area - probably the only area - where Ali had never had complaints). But he’d always found the practice of giving and receiving pleasure to be a little transactional. He didn’t make the girls he’d been with feel good for the thrill of watching them get turned on - he made them feel good because he wanted to feel good as well, and that was the fastest way to make it happen (and also, he wasn’t a total douchebag). So he enjoyed it, but he didn’t _enjoy_ it. 

And to be honest, Ali had made it pretty easy for him (when they’d still been on good enough terms for that) - she’d pretty much always known what she wanted, when she wanted it, if she wanted it. That made it easy for Johnny to shrug and do his thing without worrying about it too much.

But with Daniel, it was different. They’d obviously only done this twice, but so far it seemed like he was pretty okay with letting Johnny have his way. While that might in part be down to his pretty limited sexual repertoire (just one person, _really_?), Johnny had a hunch it was also because he kinda liked it. It's not like Daniel was the type to take shit lying down.

And Johnny liked it, too. Way, way more than he thought he would, more than he usually did. Making the other boy moan, and gasp, and clench up with passion - kissing him and feeling his lithe hands all over his body - was a turn on so intense that it was scary.

In fact, it made Johnny queasy as much as it excited him. Daniel was becoming the exception to a lot of things Johnny had thought were true, and he didn’t really want to think about what that meant. This wasn’t going anywhere. It couldn’t.

“Mmmmm…anyone ever tell you that you smell good?” Daniel snuffled, interrupting Johnny’s thoughts. He was emerging from his post-orgasm daze, stretching long and lean like a sleepy cat. He sighed, curling into the solid warmth of Johnny’s body before tensing and pulling away, creating space between them. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “didn’t mean to do that.”

Johnny had actually been alright with it - whatever, he kinda _liked_ cuddling after sex, okay? - but he guessed he understood why Daniel had withdrawn. With the heat of the moment past, it was a little more awkward, a little easier to see the line and stick to the correct side of it - whatever the correct side of it was, anyway.

Daniel rolled over and grunted, wrinkling his nose in discomfort.

“What?” Johnny asked lethargically, unwilling to lift his head higher than he needed to.

“Nothin’,” Daniel yawned, accent thicker than usual. After a couple minutes, he squirmed again. Johnny gave him an exasperated side eye.

“Okay, ‘fess up. What’s your damage?”

Daniel scowled.

“Fine, but you better not let it go to your head.” Johnny did made a little “humph” of acknowledgment. “Your fingers really are bigger than mine,” he harrumphed, annoyed.

Johnny caught his meaning after a second, and he buried his snort of gleeful laughter into his pillow.

“Too much for you, LaRusso?” he cackled, narrowly dodging a vicious jab to his ribs.

“Laugh it up, wise-guy. I know where your record collection lives now.”

“Hey!” Johnny stopped laughing abruptly. Never mess with a man’s music.

Satisfied he’d made his point, Daniel laid back, crossing his arms underneath his head. They laid in silence for quite some time, until LaRusso again punctured the silence by snickering. 

“If I hadn’t seen how hard you shot your load for myself I might be feeling a little insulted right now,” Johnny drawled, voice muffled by the arm he’d thrown over his face.

“I was just thinking,” Daniel said, shoulders shaking, laughter clear in his voice, “you really _struck hard_.” He fully dissolved into helpless giggles. “You had your fingers in my ass before you ever even got a hand on my dick.”

Johnny snorted. That _was_ pretty funny. No one could ever say he wasn’t a go-getter, with the proper motivation.

“Fear does not exist in this dojo, Mr. LaRusso,” he intoned deeply, gruffing up his voice on purpose, and he was inordinately pleased when it made Daniel laugh even harder. Chalk it up to the post-orgasm serotonin. “But, hey...how'd you know all that?”

Daniel raised an eyebrow.

“All what?” 

Dammit, was he really gonna make him say it?

“About the, uh, well, you know...inside?” 

Great job using your words, Johnny. 

Daniel turned to fully face him, looking sheepish.

“Oh. That. Okay, so.” He started, and then paused, debating what to say. “This is so dumb. But. A couple years ago, my aunt and uncle were moving to Parsippany, so they had my cousins and I start cleaning out the basement to get ready to sell the house. Well, while we were doing that, we found this crazy book called _The Joy of Sex._ Don’t laugh, I know it sounds ridiculous!”

It was too late, Johnny had already lost it.

Daniel bit his lip, seemingly suppressing another round of giggles of his own. “It was real old; must’ve been my aunt and uncle’s - which, you’ve never seen my Uncle Louie before, but _gross_ \- and they forgot it was down there or somethin’. So obviously we started looking through it, and it was some of the most ridiculous shit I ever read - there was some _really_ weird stuff in there - but there was a part about _that_ and talking about how it could feel good for guys, too. And, I mean, it sounded kinda gross but I was a teenage horndog. I got curious.” 

He rolled back over, looking contemplative. “Scared the shit out of myself the first time I tried anything, though, I came so hard. I hadn’t done anything with _anyone_ at that point, and I thought for sure it meant I was queer. And, well, I guess I was, a little bit, but I didn’t realize _that_ until later, and by then I was at least aware that girls did it for me too and I wasn’t totally fucked.” He hesitated. “Honestly though, girls or guys, I don’t really think it matters for - for the physical part of it. I mean, it does for who you wanna do it with, but otherwise it seems like it’s all just biology.”

“Huh.” Johnny said after he’d chilled out and had some time to think about it all. Daniel turned to him expectantly. “Books? Biology? For sex? You really are a nerd, LaRusso.”

Daniel huffed.

“Okay Casanova, how the hell did you learn about any of this shit, then?”

Johnny smiled nostalgically. 

“That’s easy. Dutch snuck us all into the strip club his uncle owned and paid one of the dancers to tell us everything we needed to know.”

Daniel gaped at him.

“How _old_ were you?”

Hmmm. Johnny counted backwards. Had he been dating Ali yet? He didn’t think so.

“I dunno, maybe fifteen?”

“What the hell, that’s so fucked up!” 

Johnny’s first impulse was to get defensive, but honestly, it _was_ kinda fucked up. He shrugged. 

“That’s Dutch.” Pause. “But at least I wasn’t going through a sex book with my _cousins,_ LaRusso, Jesus Christ. Are there not laws against that kind of thing in New Jersey?”

Daniel punched him in the arm.

“It was to satisfy our scientific curiosity, you asshole!” 

“Whatever you say, Sweet Home Alabama.”

Johnny could practically feel the heat from Daniel’s glare against the side of his head but ignored it, and the conversation fell into a natural lull, for long enough that Johnny started to doze off. Karate plus two volcanic orgasms in one day really took it out of a guy.

Unfortunately, he was startled from his extremely comfortable, satisfying descent into sleep by movement from the other side of the bed. Annoyed, Johnny cracked an eye open to see what was going on.

“What are you _doing,_ LaRusso?” he groaned. Daniel froze.

“Uh, just getting my stuff? I was gonna head out.” 

Now, Johnny pushed himself up a little, looking at Daniel like he had two heads.

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“Well, I didn’t think...I mean, I figured…if this was just for...” His shoulders fell. “I dunno.”

He looked so pathetic, Johnny couldn’t help but feel bad.

“For fuck’s sake, Daniel. I can be a dick sometimes, but I’m not a total asshole.” He grabbed the other boy by the wrist and dragged him back down, yanking the covers back up from where they’d fallen during their romp. 

Aggressively, he tucked them both in.

“Now,” he concluded, flopping back into his nest of pillows, “can we please go to sleep?”

Daniel’s quiet, low laugh was the last thing he heard before he drifted off.

  
  



	5. will you still love me tomorrow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i had planned to update weekly. then i reread the OG draft of this chapter as i was editing and hated it, lol. so i rewrote it without really knowing what i wanted to say, which is ill-advised and makes for two weeks of anxiety and a half-finished, messy draft. i am now mostly comfortable with what i'm putting out here. i think. ha. 
> 
> anyway, thank you x1 million for the response to the last chapter - the secondhand embarrassment was great - smut is DIFFICULT - but I’m glad y’all enjoyed.
> 
> warnings for: dumbass boys, “what did you think was going to happen?”, slightly stronger homophobic language/internalized homophobia than usual, etc. More notes at the bottom as well.

* * *

Johnny woke up slowly, face half-smashed into the pillow, head fuzzy and warm.

He gave himself his usual long few minutes to reluctantly adjust to consciousness, sagging into the mattress, shaking off the cobwebs. He swallowed once, and winced. Cotton-mouth. Dammit. Should’ve known that would happen. He wished he’d thought to grab a glass of water before crashing last night.

Through his sleepy haze, he registered the soft music playing out at the other side of the room. Shit. He’d forgotten to turn his alarm off. No wonder he was awake. That meant it was still early. Annoying.

Other than the unquenchable thirst (God, why was the sink so far away?), he was surprised to discover that he felt...good. Satisfied, right down to his bones. Like he could get up immediately and be perfectly energized, or fall back into deep, restful sleep for another five hours. In fact, the latter option was sounding pretty damn good.

But the bed was still warm and heavy next to him, and that realization was so distracting that returning to sleep was impossible.

Carefully, he shifted over onto his other side, the crisp white sheets his mother had insisted on giving him when he’d moved out tangling around his legs. For all his protests at the time, he was glad now for her persistence, especially as he cracked his eyes open to admire how the bright cotton sliced cleanly across the line of smooth olive skin next to him, bare down to the dip of his lower back.

Part of Johnny was surprised to see him there, like maybe last night had been an extremely vivid, erotic hallucination brought on by too much weed and alcohol. But he’d only had half a joint, and one beer to boot, and Daniel was enticingly solid.

He was laid out on his stomach, face buried in one arm, the other tucked under his pillow. Even from behind, even without being able to see his face, Johnny was painfully drawn to the dark curl of his hair over his forearm and the lean stretch of his body. Jesus, the sight he made, and he didn’t even realize it.

Humming quietly, he shifted closer and settled his hand on the small of Daniel’s back, just above the crease of the sheet, and smoothed it up to the back of his neck, enjoying the contrast between the wide, pale stretch of his hand and the tan, slender expanse of the other boy’s body.

Daniel shivered, goosebumps erupting along the path Johnny’s hand had taken.

“Hey,” he rasped without lifting his head, rough with sleep. “G’morning.”

Johnny couldn’t help but crowd in even closer, hand sliding down to cradle his hip through the sheet. He dropped a soft, open kiss to the nape of his neck, and again Daniel shuddered, obligingly raising his face and twisting his neck so Johnny could kiss his mouth just the same.

He tasted - well, honestly, he tasted gross, like old beer, weed, and sleep - and Johnny was sure he wasn’t much better. But even so, he couldn’t resist, immediately diving in for more, stroking his thumb under Daniel’s chin to coax his kiss-swollen lips open further. In return, Daniel shifted over, angling into the solid weight of Johnny’s body, fingers twisting into the thick blonde hair at the crown of his head. He slotted one leg firmly in between Daniel’s thighs in a tight, slow, toe-curling grind.

Christ. He was already revved and raring to go again, which was basically a goddamn miracle considering how drained he’d been last night. What the hell had been _in_ that weed?

Telling himself to get a grip, Johnny broke off the kiss with a hard smack, panting as he tried to reorient and think with his brain, not his dick.

“Hey,” he finally murmured, once they’d both mostly caught their breath. He settled back into the bed, creating a little separation so he could think. In the cold, sober light of day, the enormity of what they’d done was catching up with Johnny, and he honestly wasn’t quite sure what to say. 

It must have been the same for Daniel - that or Johnny was just _that_ good a kisser - because he kept his mouth shut as well, and they stayed like that for a long, still moment, just breathing each other in. 

In the silence, Johnny became aware once again of the music playing in the background. He lifted his head and squinted in confusion.

“Is that...Carole King?” he asked. Daniel huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah. You think you’d have been half as scary in high school if it’d been public knowledge that Johnny Lawrence, karate king of the West Valley is a fan of soft rock in the morning?” he asked, smiling slyly. Then, he let out a surprised squeak as Johnny pinched his side, trying to roll away but, met with the edge of the bed, left with nowhere to go.

“I don’t know, LaRusso, what do you think?” Johnny said, digging his fingers into pliant flesh. Daniel laughed uncontrollably, unable to escape the onslaught.

“Don’t worry, Johnny,” he wheezed, “my mom loves this shit too-OO!” Another peal of laughter. “S-stop, pleeeasse, uncle!” He gulped for air as Johnny eased off. “I give, I give. I’ll take the secret of your undying love for the golden oldies to my grave.” 

Daniel’s eyes were sparkling with good humor. The roughhousing had gotten their blood thrumming again, leaving his face pleasingly flushed. One subtle shift of Johnny’s leg was enough to tell him where the rest of it had gone, and suddenly the temperature felt like it had gone up about a hundred degrees as Johnny dipped forward to catch Daniel’s lips again, firm and purposeful. 

Almost instantly, the other boy opened for him, lips parting to let Johnny’s tongue slip past and push against his own, wet and warm and insistent. They took their time, hands wandering lazily, claiming each other’s mouths over and over until they were both achingly hard and trembling with need.

Daniel canted his hips up, and the sharp drag of pleasure as their cocks brushed was so good that a moan caught in Johnny’s throat. 

He knew this was probably not the smartest thing they could be doing with their time, but whatever willpower he’d managed to muster up just a few minutes ago was utterly consumed by the hungry press of their mouths and the heat of their bodies between the sheets.

This time, though, it was Daniel who came to his senses first, breaking the kiss with a shaky breath, pushing his hands against Johnny’s shoulders to create some space.

“Wait, wait,” he said with some difficulty. “We can’t just keep doin’ this.”

Johnny contented himself with nibbling on the soft patch of skin under LaRusso’ ear. 

“Okay,” he mumbled, working intently. “Lemme know when you wanna stop.” He moved up to Daniel’s earlobe, taking it gently in between his teeth, delighting in Daniel’s full-body shiver and the way his long, dark eyelashes fluttered.

“Johnny,” he protested, voice hitching. “That’s not...” He whimpered as Johnny marked a searing path down his jaw, then up to the corners of his mouth. “Helpful.”

“Don’t want to be helpful,” Johnny murmured against his lips. “Helpful is boring.”

Daniel let him have the slow, dirty kiss he was begging for, then, whining and arching as Johnny deliberately pushed their dicks together once more. 

“This is nuts,” he breathed when they separated for air, hands fisted in Johnny’s hair. “We gotta figure out how to stop.”

“Why?” Johnny asked, low and rough, nudging his way in between the other boy’s legs and smirking at the way they spread to accommodate him, even as Daniel protested. “Why do we gotta stop?”

Daniel stared at him. If the phrase “ _are you serious?_ ” had been a face, it would’ve been the one he was making. Johnny sighed. “Look, this is obviously a thing,” he followed up. “But you want something more when you can’t have it, right? So if we let ourselves have it, it’ll be less exciting, and eventually it’ll just...work its way out of our systems. I give it a couple weeks, tops. We just gotta ride it out.” Daniel squawked as Johnny flipped them without warning then, so that Daniel was sitting astride him. “Literally.”

Underneath blonde hair mussed beyond all repair, Johnny grinned, feeling pretty wicked and self-satisfied. He could practically see the last weak tendrils of Daniel’s resistance evaporating, could see him giving into Johnny’s frankly flawless logic. 

They could talk until they were blue in the face. Talk was cheap, and Johnny considered himself more a man of action, anyway.

Finally, Daniel leaned down, relenting. He planted his hands on either side of Johnny’s head and looked up at him through the fringe of his inky hair. Johnny could barely breathe, he was suddenly so turned on.

“All right,” Daniel said, low and sure. “Let’s ride it out.”

*****

So they’d left things in a weird, in-between space that neither seemed to know what to do with. 

By now, they’d blown so far past pretending it didn’t exist that they couldn’t even wave at pretending it didn’t exist in the rearview mirror.

Just the same, though, it’s not like any of their choices moving forward were great. Being together - for real - wasn’t an option. Maybe Daniel could’ve gotten away with it for a time - his mom was all the way across the country, and it didn’t really look like she had plans to come back. And while Johnny didn’t have too good a sense of what Mr. Miyagi might think, he seemed pretty live and let live. 

(Then again, lots of people _seemed_ that way, until push came to shove.)

But for Johnny, the circumstances couldn’t be more different. The list of things Sid hated was pretty long, but fags were right near the top of it - maybe even higher up than Johnny himself. Combine the two things he despised most in the world, and it was a recipe for nuclear disaster - one in which Johnny wanted no part. 

He was less sure how his mom would react, but since she usually rolled over pretty easily for Sid he didn’t exactly anticipate open arms. There was almost zero chance she’d assert herself as any kind of ally in the face of his stepfather’s shit-slinging - or worse - if Johnny _did_ come home with Daniel on his arm. 

Not that he would, because he wouldn't, damn it.

(None of this was even _touching_ on how the other ex-Cobras would react. As defensive as Johnny had gotten over Daniel’s comment about locker room shit-talking, it wasn’t wrong. He remembered, with a hot flush of shame, how they - well, mostly he and Dutch, but sometimes the others, too - had talked about Daniel in closed circles last year. What his tiny frame and pretty face had implied. There was no way they’d forgive this, no way they’d understand it, and more than anything else, it was the thought of what they’d say - what they’d do - that had Johnny breaking out into a cold sweat and fighting the urge to hurl chunks.)

There was nothing he or Daniel could do about it. They’d have some fun - probably a lot of fun, if the past couple hours were anything to go by - and that would be the beginning and end of it. 

And no one - absolutely no one - needed to know.

*****

**_SPRING, 1986_ **

Figuring out the boundaries when it came to two guys having casual sex was at once more and less complicated than Johnny thought it would be. 

A couple times a week - but not so often that it was super weird - Daniel would slip away to Johnny’s place, and in those hours, they were free to screw around as they pleased.

There were _some_ ground rules. Sleepovers were okay, but consecutive nights were a no. Kissing was fine (tough to put that rabbit back into the hat), but physical contact that didn’t lead to or result from sex was not. (Johnny was ashamed to admit that that last one was harder for him than it was for Daniel.)

And finally, no matter how much they fucked around, there was a hard stop between fooling around and actual fucking. They’d never discussed it outright, but the mutual consensus seemed to be that anything was fine except for _that_. It was...too much, and it might open the door to something they weren’t equipped to handle.

Still, there was a hell of a lot they could do, and they were pretty enthusiastically experimenting with most of it. 

At first, they’d backed off from some of the really physical stuff, frightened by the intensity of that hazy, hot, terrifying first time in Johnny’s bed. If they were gonna keep doing this, it seemed smarter to stick to basics, to not veer too far away from anything they might’ve gotten from fooling around with a chick. After all, Johnny had every intention of returning to the status quo. Eventually.

After a while, though, quickie hand jobs and frantic grinding got...not _boring_ \- there was no way any of that could ever be boring - but it got harder to remain satisfied with them as their only options. Especially now that Johnny had firsthand, carnal knowledge of how scorching Daniel’s body was, how good he’d felt around Johnny’s fingers, how good he’d looked taking them. 

But Daniel was too stubborn and shy to ask for it again, and Johnny didn’t know if it would be crossing a line to ask to do it to him. So they’d been trapped in kind of an uncomfortable stalemate, which had lasted right up until the night that Johnny, still buzzed after another ass-kissing dinner at Encino Oaks, had trailed his fingers questioningly down into the warm cleft of Daniel’s ass and almost lost an eye to how hard LaRusso nodded his consent. 

The rest, as they say, was history.

They figured out blowjobs not too long after that, mostly because Johnny had been dying to get Daniel’s mouth on him but wasn’t sure how to go about it when he hadn’t actually decided if he was willing to return the favor.

Then, one night - while Johnny had still been waffling over it, and he guessed not anywhere near as covertly as he’d thought - Daniel had rolled his eyes, yanked Johnny’s shorts down and gone to town, inexpert and sloppy but so, so fucking hot. As it turned out, Daniel didn’t have much of a gag reflex. Point, LaRusso. A million points.

The gauntlet had been thrown, and Johnny would not be outdone. His pride wouldn’t allow it. So, still riding the heels of a truly exceptional orgasm, he’d swallowed his nerves in order to swallow, well, dick. 

It had been an interesting bit of trial and error, as he agonized over how to keep his teeth out of the way and whether or not the amount he was drooling all over LaRusso’s dick was normal. Under those circumstances, any panic he might’ve felt over the fact that he was actively sucking another man’s cock took a backseat to the panic he was feeling over the fact that he was actively sucking another man’s cock and might not even be doing a good job at it.

In any case, Daniel had not seemed to notice Johnny’s turmoil or care very much about it, head thrown back and knuckles clenched white into the sheets. That had Johnny a little miffed. (Was that how girls felt?)

And finally, following weeks of debate and discussion - discussions that were dropped as often as they were picked up again - Johnny had decided to let Daniel give him a one-time, hands-on demonstration of what it was that made the other boy go so wild when Johnny fingered him. 

That had been... _whew_. He was still a very firm no on allowing a dick up his ass, but he’d definitely warmed to the idea of an occasional finger or two (especially if Daniel snuck them in while he was blowing him, curling them with frightening accuracy). So maybe not so one-time, then.

Daniel had no such reservations, though, and in the long run he’d been a real stress test on their resolve to stop just shy of going the distance. Once they’d gotten the awkwardness out of the way, he could be a bossy, demanding little shithead in the sack when he wanted to be, surprise surprise. He couldn’t get enough of Johnny’s hands, loved it when the blonde boy would finger him open, take him to the edge that way.

He’d push back into the pressure, squirming and making these hot, hurt noises as Johnny scissored and twisted his fingers. There’d been a few close calls when he’d gotten so into it that he’d forgotten himself, not asking to get fucked in so many words but whispering desperately in Johnny’s ear that he needed _more, harder, please fuck please more..._

Daniel was right there, and every time it happened Johnny edged that much closer to the point of no return, that much closer to giving in and flipping him over and sinking right in - he was probably more than relaxed and slick enough, it would be _so fucking easy_. But each time, Johnny had yanked himself back at the last minute. He’d tugged Daniel’s head back by the hair and covered his treacherous mouth with a rough kiss to quiet him, thrusting his hand hard and fast, in and out until his fingers ached and Daniel was thrashing and wailing his orgasm into the pillow. 

Afterward, Daniel typically apologized for these slips by swallowing down Johnny’s cock and blowing him into next week - so all-in-all, not a bad trade-off.

It was a tough job, satisfying Daniel La Sex Fiend (the bruises Johnny had sported the day after he debuted that nickname had been so worth it), but someone had to do it. For now, that someone was Johnny, and he felt he was more than up to the task.

So really, things were going great.

*****

**_SUMMER, 1986_ **

Things were decidedly not going great

Johnny had been certain - 100% certain - that he and LaRusso would fuck around for a couple of weeks, get sick of each other and bored with the novelty, and snap back to normal.

He had been certain of that. Three months ago, he’d been certain of that.

Unfortunately, in that time, it seemed his body had not gotten the memo. Or rather, it had gotten the memo and rather than heeding it, had decided to set it on fire instead.

In the space of just three months, he had somehow become conditioned to react on a dime to the dumbest shit, whether it was LaRusso shower fresh and scrambling eggs (Johnny had fried them bologna once and he was pretty sure he saw part of Daniel’s soul die in real-time, so now he stuck to the toaster or microwave when the other boy was over), or LaRusso watching his stupid-ass cartoons in Johnny’s ratty West Valley High t-shirt (which he claimed was somehow more comfortable than his own, and didn’t that make Johnny feel some kind of way). 

Confronted with these things, Johnny’s brain had decided that the optimal response would be to torment him with unrelenting thoughts of dragging LaRusso back to bed and keeping him there forever.

Based on the way Daniel’s eyes tracked him when Johnny was practicing forms, or helping fix up the shop on his days off, or lounging around like an overgrown predator cat while Daniel closed up - well, he had to assume the feeling was pretty mutual.

Thank fuck for their pretty firm adherence to the no-nonsexual-physical-contact rule, though, because otherwise Johnny might’ve completely lost the thread. Sometimes, all he had to do was look over at Daniel, dark hair messy and eyes bright, yammering on about something inane that Johnny had tuned out like ten minutes prior, and before he’d even had a chance to conjure a single filthy thought, he’d find himself repressing the urge to just, like...wrap the tiny twerp up in his arms. Or take his hand and lace their fingers together. Or spoon him (or be spooned - he was an equal opportunity spooner). 

Johnny played dumb sometimes, but he had actually been in one semi-successful relationship before. He knew what those urges meant. And it all zeroed out to one goddamn bitch of a situation.

Sure, they weren’t actually fucking, but the longer this went on, the less that mattered. They had fallen pretty easily into spending most of their free time together, still sparring on Sundays but now also picking up takeout or watching movies or just hanging out on other days, even when they weren’t taking turns pinning each other to whatever flat surface was nearest (though, to be fair, most of the former activities usually ended up leading to the latter). 

They’d even gone on another not-a-date-date to the drive-in. It wasn’t some huge deal; it’s just that they’d both been dying to see _Top Gun_ , and it had been the perfect warm night for it. Neither had wanted to accidentally spoil it for the other, so it had just made sense to kill two birds with one stone. 

And then afterward, they’d both been craving some burgers and ice cream, and there wasn’t any point in doing that separately either, especially when Johnny hated the cherries and whipped cream and Daniel loved them. Where would Johnny’s cherries and whipped cream have gone Daniel hadn’t been with him? In the garbage, that’s where. That’d be a waste. 

Besides, as long as they steered clear of their usual haunts, who would even notice them?

And if that evening had gone so well that they’d decided to do it again for _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_ , well, so what? It wasn’t like the staff at the Winnetka 6 was tracking their comings and goings. 

Yeah, okay - that sounded flimsy, even to Johnny. 

It was pretty clear they were hurtling towards a possibly unpleasant reckoning when it came to this symbiotic... _thing..._ they had going. But the inevitable conclusion - that he’d have to let go of Daniel and figure out a path back to his normal way of living - was a little too unbearable to consider, so he let it lie.

With the onset of summer, though, he took the opportunity that presented itself to create some distance. Bobby was back until September, and Jimmy was around through the end of June. Tommy was off with his family doing some twelve-country cheese tour of Europe or whatever, so he wouldn’t be back until August - but still, Bobby and Jim alone made for an excellent distraction from the tangled mess he’d made of his personal life. 

Being with them - dirt biking, sneaking into bars, smoking in Jimmy’s older brother’s basement - was like slipping on an old, perfectly broken-in jacket. He knew all the worn seams, remembered where the holes were in each pocket, knew where the zipper would catch and stick sometimes. It felt good. Comfortable. Familiar. 

Putting that vintage Johnny Lawrence jacket on was kinda like coming home, even as he noticed how threadbare it was becoming.

So as those first few weeks of summer wore on, Johnny started accidentally-on-purpose spending more time with his ex-Cobra Kai buddies and a bit less time with Daniel. The other boy accepted this with relatively good grace; between business from a few local landscapers that liked to come in plus some positive public word of mouth, the shop was getting genuinely busy, and it turned out Daniel had less free time these days himself.

Still, when they were together, Daniel’s silences had been getting progressively more pensive - especially when they were lying in bed, wrung out and sleepy after working each other over. A few times, it had definitely seemed like he was working his way up to saying something he felt was important, every thought screaming out from behind his big, expressive brown eyes, but Johnny usually cut it off with a kiss or a joke or some other diversion. 

Maybe that was shitty, but he knew he wasn’t ready to hear it - whatever “it” was - and so he’d keep throwing up roadblocks until the day Daniel refused to stop in front of them.

The worst part of all of it, though, was that Johnny had a sneaking suspicion the old man had cottoned on to their ruse. One overcast weekday afternoon in late June, he’d swung by the shop to pick up a bonsai on order for a client. Daniel had been out on an errand, and Johnny’s disappointment must have been obvious, because Mr. Miyagi looked shrewdly at him over his glasses as he wrapped the tree.

“Daniel-san very busy lately,” Miyagi observed blandly. “Say he have new sweetheart, but not bring to meet Miyagi.”

Okay, first of all, Johnny chafed at the idea of being anyone’s sweetheart. Second - even though he knew that was the cover story they’d decided on together, knew it would be easier that way - he chafed at the idea of someone _else_ being Daniel’s sweetheart. Even if that person was fictional, and his real sweetheart was, in fact, Johnny. Who wasn’t _anyone’s_ sweetheart.

Whatever. His head hurt.

“Daniel-san tell Johnny-san anything about new friend?” Miyagi followed up in that same unreadable tone. 

“Uh, just a little,” Johnny lied, fidgeting uncomfortably where he leaned against the counter. “She...sounds great.” 

The old man nodded, like it confirmed something for him that he wasn’t ready to share.

“Hai.” He looked straight at Johnny now, as deadpan as ever. “Sound like it. He say she ‘real blonde fox.’”

Johnny started so violently that the hand he was leaning on slipped and he banged his funny bone, hard. 

“Johnny-san! You okay?” Miyagi looked concerned, but also very amused. Elbow zinging and face burning, Johnny nodded.

“Yeah, yeah - just lost my grip.” 

Miyagi’s mouth twitched.

“Ah. Better to be more careful next time,” he said sagely as he handed the tree over to Johnny. “Balance important.” The blonde boy bobbed his head and snatched the tree as roughly as he dared, desperate to get out of there. As he was turning to flee, Miyagi called him back one more time.

“Oh, Johnny-san! You see Daniel-san, you tell him Miyagi like to meet blonde friend sometime,” he said levelly.

Johnny had never run out of the shop - out of anywhere - so fast in his life.

*****

It had nagged at Johnny so bad the rest of the day that even hard physical labor couldn’t center him as it normally did. Usually, he could sweat out whatever was bothering him until he was in a better head space to figure it out (or, more typically, ignore it), but he was distracted for the whole remainder of his shift, robotically spreading mulch and hauling bricks and spreading mortar and yanking weeds.

Perhaps that’s why he’d chosen the worst fucking possible time to bring it up, while he was lounging back on his futon, shirt off, Daniel straddling his waist. They hadn’t seen each other in a couple days, and since they both had a free evening they’d agreed to get together and blow off some steam. Off-balance and irritated and hoping the scorching push-pull of their bodies could shut off his brain the way nothing else had that day, Johnny had been on him as soon as he got there. 

And it had worked, for a while - Daniel had pushed him back against the couch and started kissing him hard and deep, short-circuiting any coherent thoughts before they could form and sending liquid desire curling its way up Johnny’s spine. In return, he raked his hands up and down Daniel’s bare back, enjoying how he shuddered and bucked under his fingers. Greedy for more, he sucked Daniel’s tongue into his mouth, cupping and massaging his ass through his jeans as the other boy groaned and blindly fumbled with Johnny’s fly.

Johnny breathed into the kiss for a long second before pulling away and bringing his mouth to Daniel’s ear, intending to suggest they get their pants off and move this to the bed. 

However, what came out was painfully different.

“You think I’m a fox?”

“What?” Daniel gasped, arching back, not totally paying attention as Johnny tightened his grip on his ass.

“A blonde fox. Isn’t that who you told your sensei you were seeing?” Johnny’s voice was more gravelly than usual, and he thought it was pretty hot. 

Daniel clearly did not feel the same way, freezing completely.

“Johnny?” He was sounding decidedly less turned on now. Oh no. “A favor? You wanna talk about Mr. Miyagi, maybe don’t start the conversation with both hands on my ass.”

Oops.

“Sorry,” Johnny mumbled the apology, nipping at his shoulder. “I’ll shut up.”

They tried to get back into it, but now that Johnny had pierced the fog with that weird aside, it was impossible to tuck away his thoughts. After a few minutes of halfhearted grinding, Daniel sighed and pulled away, ignoring Johnny’s whine of protest.

He rolled off and to the side, propping his head under one hand and staring at Johnny for a long moment.

“Okay,” Daniel said, nudging Johnny with his foot and smiling, keeping his tone deliberately light. “While I’m trying not to take this personally, finding out you’ve been thinking about my octogenarian sensei right when I’m literally trying to get into your pants isn’t the ego boost you might think it is. What’s up?” 

Johnny was irrationally annoyed at the question, because one, he had no idea what an octagonaerial was, and two, he didn’t understand how Daniel could ask that so simply, as if it were a straightforward question with a straightforward answer - as if Johnny hadn’t been twisting himself into a pretzel all day over this. He’d worried for hours over how they might have given themselves away to Mr. Miyagi - and if they’d given themselves away to him, had they become obvious to anyone else?

Johnny sank further into his slouch, cradling the back of his head with his hands. 

“You think the old man knows?” he finally asked, staring up at the ceiling.

“Mr. Miyagi? Pretty sure he knows everything, so you’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

Annoyed, Johnny poked him none too gently, ignoring Daniel’s grunt of protest.

“Come on, I’m being serious here. You think he knows we’re…” now he gestured lewdly, “...you know?” 

“Classy.” Daniel rolled his eyes. “And, uh, no? I don’t think so? I think he doesn’t think too hard about my love life is what I think.” His mouth flattened. “Why, you think I spilled the beans or something? I didn’t. I stuck to the story.” 

Johnny could see his little hackles rising - could see all the ways this conversation was heading south - and worked to course-correct.

“No! Course not.” He said. “I know you did. But I swung by the shop today to pick up a bonsai for a client. You were out.” A pause. “When I was talking to him he went out of his way to mention you’d been seeing someone but wouldn’t bring them around or say anything about them.” Pause. “Well, except that they were a blonde fox. I mean, what are you, eighty? Gonna meet me at the sock hop, LaRusso?”

At the same time he was razzing Daniel, Johnny couldn’t help but preen. Modesty wasn’t exactly his best quality (that would be his hair), and he knew what he looked like. He dodged the jab Daniel aimed at his kidneys. “Too slow!” 

Unfortunately, he realized too late that the jab he had so skillfully dodged was a cover for the real assault - a great big sloppy wet willy. “Ew, jeez! Come on!” He yelped as he cringed away.

“You were askin’ for it,” Daniel glowered. Johnny glared and scooted further away, not truly out of range of Daniel’s hands but far enough to give himself a sense of security.

“Anyway,” he said pointedly, “it was just weird. He didn’t say for sure but it was like he’d figured it out.”

Daniel huffed out a sigh, annoyed.

“Well, what I don’t know that Mr. Miyagi does know could fill an encyclopedia, so I guess it’s possible. I dunno. You sure you’re not overthinking this?” 

Johnny stared at him.

“I’m not gonna repeat the conversation word for word, LaRusso. I know what I heard, and I think he’s onto us. That doesn’t bother you?”

Irritated, Daniel sat upright now

“What do you want me to say, John? Am I thrilled he might know? Not really.” The more agitated he got, the thicker his Jersey drawl got. “But what d’you want me to do? If he didn’t say anything then I guess if he knows he doesn’t care. Isn’t that good? Wouldn’t that make this easier?” He turned plaintive. “I hate - I hate lying to him. I really hate it.”

Johnny’s throat felt tight and full, anxiety like a vise grip around his chest.

“Don’t _you_ care?” he demanded. “If your sensei knows, then who else’s figured it out?”

“Johnny, who else are we around? The list is pretty short. We barely see each other anywhere besides here - where I park like two lots away so that your neighbors won’t notice my “loud-ass yellow car” - and the shop and the dojo, so who’s gonna notice?”

It was a good point, one Johnny had to concede. They were - okay, _Johnny_ was - by design, pretty careful - _some might say paranoid_ \- about where they went together. But still…

“Robby noticed,” Johnny grumbled, sitting up a bit and crossing his arms. 

“Robby? Robby who? I don’t know who the hell that is.” Daniel had drawn back, body language tight and closed, and he was biting at his cuticles like he hadn’t in months. Johnny wished intensely that he could turn back the clock to fifteen minutes ago, before he’d opened his big fat mouth, when the only thing that had mattered was the slow, gasping grind of their bodies.

“You met him.” Johnny paused. “That first day we came to get a bonsai. He was kinda flirting with you,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Flirting?” Daniel laughed, and it was a little manic. “Now I know you’re overthinking things.”

“Don’t be stupid, LaRusso. You could practically see him flirting from space. But that’s not the point.”

“Yeah, and what is the point?” Daniel asked, borderline mean.

“The point is that anyone with fucking eyes can apparently tell what’s going on here!” Johnny exploded. “Like fucking Sputnik is flying over our heads with a neon sign - “Queers here!” Robby saw it, and he was around us for all of five minutes. And that was before we were even doing anything! How do you _not_ see how this is a problem?”

Daniel wouldn’t look at him, having moved to hunch over the edge of the futon.

“I don’t know, Johnny, maybe I’m just not as paranoid as you.” He sounded unsteady, and Johnny wanted to feel bad but he didn’t have it in him just right at this second.

“More like you don’t have a single self-preserving bone in your whole goddamn body,” Johnny shot back. “You’re too reckless, LaRusso, and that’s coming from _me_. And it’s gonna get us both - where the hell are you going?” While he’d been talking, Daniel had yanked on his undershirt and started searching the floor for his button up.

“Home,” Daniel said, thoroughly pissed off. “I don’t have to hear this.”

“Oh that’s nice, real mature - you don’t like what I’m saying so you’re just gonna leave?”

Daniel turned on him, wild-eyed. 

“Mature? You wanna talk about mature? Now that you’ve got something to say? Newsflash, Johnny: We’re not together and you don’t wanna be together, so I don’t _have_ to stick around to hear it!” 

He turned away again, tying the red flannel around his waist haphazardly when he realized his hands were shaking just a touch too hard to fasten it up properly. “Whatever you think, I’m not an idiot,” he continued. “You think I don’t notice how you change the subject anytime I try to say shit about whatever the hell game it is we’re playing here? I know you don’t want to talk about it. I got eyes and ears and they work just as fucking well as yours.”

Dammit. This was so _not_ how Johnny wanted this to be going. He lurched over, grabbing the back of the other boy’s shirt.

“Wait,” he exclaimed. “LaRusso - Daniel - just wait. Slow down.” He looped his arm around Daniel’s midsection, loose enough that he could get out if he truly wanted to escape, but firm enough to show that Johnny was hoping he’d stay put. _Breaking a rule_ , said a tiny, mean voice in Johnny’s head, but he kindly told it to shut up.

Daniel was rigid in his embrace, but didn’t attempt to squirm away, not even when Johnny tentatively hooked his chin over the dark haired boy’s shoulder from behind.

“Don’t leave,” Johnny said softly. “I got scared. I freaked out.” He pressed his mouth to the warm skin of Daniel’s shoulder. “I don’t think that was wrong. I think...I think people doing what you and I are doing gotta be real careful. But I’m not trying to be a dick about it, okay?”

He felt Daniel relax back into him for a brief moment before straightening again, this time with resolve. Johnny felt a pit of dread open up in his gut.

“I get it,” Daniel said. “I’m scared, too. You think I wanna keep fighting with people? I don’t. I never have. I just wanna be left alone.” He swallowed. “But I figure if it hasn’t happened by now, it’s not gonna. There’s always gonna be someone bigger and meaner waiting.” 

He turned his head, bumping his nose into the pale silk of Johnny’s hair. “I don’t wanna do it by myself. I kinda suck by myself. I want someone with me. Someone who wants to be there. But I don’t...I don’t think you want to be that person. And if you don’t, I gotta figure out what that means, for me and for us.” He paused. “The way I feel about you isn’t going away. And I don’t - I don’t think it’s gonna. Not with what we’ve been doing.”

He looked down. “That’s what I’ve been wanting to tell you the last couple weeks. I just kept chickening out.”

Johnny sat there quietly, thinking, still folded around Daniel. For his part, the other boy sat placid, letting Johnny have the time he needed to absorb what he’d confessed.

“What are you saying, Daniel?” Johnny finally asked. “Do you _want._..a...a relationship?” 

Now, Daniel twisted out of Johnny’s grip to look directly at him at him.

“Johnny, what do you think this _is_?” he asked him plainly. “It’s been months. We spend most of our time together, we kiss, we dick around - what do you think that’s _called_? You’ve done this before, I know you’re not this dense.”

Was the room getting smaller? It seemed like maybe the room was getting smaller. Or maybe Johnny was getting bigger, because his skin felt tight and itchy, like it was stretching beyond its limit.

“I don’t…”

“I’m not asking for a fuckin’ parade!” Daniel exclaimed, barreling on, like now that the floodgates had opened there was no way to stem the tide of words he’d been holding back. “I don’t wanna make a whole production outta this, I’m not stupid. Maybe I’m reckless, but I’m not that reckless,” he said resignedly. “I just..I just want us to be honest about what this is, even if it’s just with ourselves. If it’s something, it’s something. If it’s nothing…” his voice wobbled over _nothing_ , “then it’s nothing. But if it’s nothing, then we gotta call time, because I can’t keep doin’ this with you.”

Johnny just stared up, overwhelmed and sort of terrified, and Daniel visibly softened.

“Look, when I first started training with Mr. Miyagi, I wasn’t totally sure about the whole thing, so I guess I was kinda wishy-washy,” he said, contemplative. “And when he saw that, he told me - ‘Daniel-san, must talk. Walk on road, hm?” Normally, Johnny would’ve smiled at his creepily dead-on Miyagi impersonation, but the muscles in his face had frozen. “Walk right side, safe. Walk left side, safe. Walk middle, sooner or later, get squished, just like grape.’” 

Daniel shrugged. “So we gotta...we gotta make a decision here, once and for all, before we both get squished like grapes.”

Funny analogy, since Johnny already felt like his whole being was slowly caving in on itself. 

“Daniel, this isn’t...this isn’t the same as learning karate or competing in a tournament.”

“I know. I know it’s not,” Daniel conceded. “I know it’s harder than that. I get that we’d be in deep shit if the wrong people found out. But...it seems like danger pretty much finds me wherever I go, so if it’s gonna come lookin’ again, I’d rather it at least be for something like this. Not because of a grudge or honor or some stupid tournament, but for lo - for something worthwhile.”

Well that was all very nice and noble, but Johnny wondered if Daniel would feel the same way if the danger was coming not from the outside world, but from people he knew. People he loved. How would he feel if they turned on him? _When_ they turned on him? And where would that leave Johnny?

“And you think that...we’re worthwhile? I’m worthwhile?” Johnny asked skeptically. His mind was racing a mile a minute, trying and failing to catch up with how far ahead of him Daniel had sped.

Daniel finally smiled, and it was unbearably fond.

“Yeah, you dope. Of course I do. You think I’d spend as much time as I have listening to you wax poetic about Twisted Sister if I didn’t? No one actually _likes_ Dee Snider that much.”

“But...why?” Johnny croaked, ignoring the Dee Snider slander with some effort. Not the time. “I don’t get it. I was...I really was a total shit to you in high school.”

Daniel chanced reaching up to card fingers soothingly through Johnny’s hair.

“Don’t ask me to explain it,” he laughed. “I just do. You’re not that jerk anymore, even though you never actually said outrightthat you were sorry -” he tugged a handful of the pale locks briefly, firmly, in reproach, “- and I know you’d never do it again, to anyone. Right?” He tightened his fist and Johnny grunted in affirmation (and pain). 

“You started sparring with me just because Mr. Miyagi asked you to. You take care of that stupid bonsai like it’s a pet - I still think Rambo is an awful name for a tree, by the way - and I know you help the old lady down the hall with her faucet and shit when you think no one’s watching. You’re a good guy, even though you try pretty hard sometimes to make it seem like you’re not.” Daniel paused. “Plus, you give fucking great head - OW!” 

Johnny knew he’d probably only said that to break the mood (Johnny could only take the mushy stuff for so long before he started getting twitchy), but he’d still deserved that pinch. And, it had worked, some. Johnny felt calmer, a bit better able to sort through his thoughts, picking at a pill mark on his jeans.

“Daniel, have you even thought about what your mom would say?” he asked slowly. “Your family? I mean, Jesus, if Sid ever got even a whiff of this you can kiss my ass goodbye. Do you actually think it’d be any better for you?” He was still unable to envision any world where this crazy ass suggestion had a prayer of succeeding.

Daniel chewed nervously at his lip.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Probably not right away. But I told you - I don’t want to come out to everyone we know tomorrow, or - or start spending all our time in West Hollywood or anything like that. I’m fully aware that if my ma found out, she'd probablybe on the next flight to L.A. freaking out that I have AIDS or something.”

Jesus. Fuck. That was a whole new fun wrinkle that Johnny had been too fucking stupid to even consider. Holy shit. People would probably just, like, automatically assume you had it if they knew you liked men, right? Sid usually did. The way he talked, it was like AIDS was something you could get just by thinking about being queer. Johnny knew - or, well, he was pretty sure - that wasn’t totally how it worked, since junkies got it too, which is why Dutch, dumb as he was, never messed with anything with needles. And there was that kid in the news who made his mom cry because he got it from having that weird blood disease or something.

And he also knew, realistically, that he and LaRusso were fine, because Johnny had only been with girls up ‘til now and Daniel had barely been with _anyone_. 

But even just the _idea_ that someone could look at him and think that he had...that he was...

Daniel grabbed his hand, seeing how Johnny had started to spiral, and squeezed it, hard, trying to bring him back down to earth. 

“Johnny,” he said firmly, punctuating the word with another strong squeeze. “Breathe. Forget I said that about AIDS, okay? It was just a bad joke. I’m sorry I made it.” He took a fortifying breath. “Look, the point I’m trying to get at here is - I have no idea where this is headed. Maybe we decide to give it a shot and it blows up tomorrow. But maybe - maybe it doesn’t. Either way, I don’t wanna have to keep bracing myself for an expiration date that I don’t know.”

Abruptly, Johnny stood up, yanking out of the other boy’s grasp, pacing the length of the room a few times like a caged animal. Daniel’s eyes tracked him, concerned.

“This is...this is crazy!” he exclaimed. “You’re crazy! You never did know when to leave well enough alone LaRusso, but this is next level even for you!”

Daniel’s mouth twisted with hurt.

“Maybe I’m crazy, but at least I’m not stuck in denial,” he retorted. “Just because you decide you don’t wanna put a label something doesn’t mean it isn’t happening anyway.”

“Yeah, it does, when what’s happening is fucking crazy!” Johnny shouted. He sounded hysterical, even to himself. “You don’t get it, LaRusso. Think about what you just said. You were joking, but that’s what people will actually think if this shit comes out. I could get fired. I probably _will_ get fired! And that’s assuming I’m not dead, because I’m not kidding, Sid gets wind of this, he’s gonna fuckin’ string me up by the balls and cut ‘em off. You think my mom would stop him? She wouldn’t. And even if he doesn’t kill me, I’m definitely out on my ass, which would be just great because hey, I’m gonna get fired!”

When had his back hit the wall? Why was Daniel suddenly so much taller? Why did it feel like none of his limbs were working?

Alarmed, Daniel started to move over to him but Johnny flinched back.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he bit out harshly. Daniel froze. “I need...I think I need some time alone,” Johnny said slowly, once the room stopped spinning. “I think you should go.” To his own ears, his words were thick and muffled, like he was talking through a pillow.

Daniel’s shoulders dropped, defeated.

“Now who’s running away from something he doesn’t want to hear?” he asked, quiet and sad. He scuffed his socked foot into the carpet. “Fine. I’ll go. I’m sorry. I don’t - I don’t want you to feel trapped. I didn’t mean to spring this on you like I did,” he said with regret, wavering over the words. “And I...I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want the same things as me.”

Part of Johnny wanted to contradict him, wanted to grab him and shake him and shout him down until Daniel understood just how much Johnny wanted him all the time, wanted him so bad that sometimes he couldn’t even see straight. Wanted him so bad that it was all he could think about ninety-fucking-five percent of the time, like an addict desperate for his next hit. Of course he wanted the same things as Daniel. 

But those were just words. Words Johnny couldn’t back up with the kind of action Daniel was hoping for, because “want” wasn’t always a synonym for “can have”. And because the other part of Johnny - the part that was screaming so loud that his ears were ringing - that part wanted nothing to do with the other boy, wanted to shove him away, curl far away from him and everyone until there was nothing but the blissful, silent, empty void - no expectations, no dreams, no crushing hopes.

So all Johnny actually did was nod silently, acknowledging Daniel’s words but not responding to them. Like the gutless turd Sid always said he was. 

He’d never really believed it until now.

Now, Daniel hesitated. 

( _Now, he backed off, after he’d already wrecked everything. Because quitting wasn't for people named Daniel LaRusso._ )

“Are you...gonna be okay?” he asked. “Alone?”

Johnny laughed. It was a wet, unhappy noise.

“Yeah, LaRusso, I’ll be fine.” Who the fuck would he call, anyway? What would he tell them?

Daniel nodded and looked down. He pressed his mouth together, eyes suspiciously bright.

“Okay,” he repeated, mumbling now. “I guess….I guess I’m just gonna go, then.” He toed his shoes on, hesitating by the door. “I really am sorry.” Johnny couldn’t look up, couldn’t look at those big, sorrowful brown eyes without cracking open, so he burned a resolute hole in the denim covering his knees. Without another word, Daniel slipped out the door, and then he was gone. 

The room felt like it had doubled in size, vast and suffocating and still.

Johnny sat there for a moment, processing. What the hell had just happened? 

He felt like he was on the comedown from an incredibly unpleasant high, the kind he’d only experienced once or twice before in his life. His hands were shaking and clammy, his eyes were itching, and his thoughts weren’t coming in any sensible order. He was exhausted. 

On autopilot, he stood up. Scanned the floor for his shirt. It was crumpled in the corner next to the shoes he’d been wearing and picked it up. He started to put his arm through one sleeve, but stopped when the worn, red material caught halfway up his bicep, far tighter than he remembered. 

Goddammit. This wasn’t his.

They’d laughed about it earlier, when they realized (as they were ripping them off each other) that they’d both donned incredibly similar red checked flannels that morning. Now, it wasn’t so funny, realizing that Daniel had picked up the wrong one and inadvertently left a piece of himself in Johnny’s apartment.

Regret, cold and heavy as an iron fist, was settling in his stomach as his clarity sluggishly returned. He’d known that conversation was coming, as much as he’d tried to pretend it wasn’t. As much as he’d tried so hard to avoid it. 

But he hadn’t meant to freak out like that. Fuck. Johnny tried very hard not to think about the small, forlorn sound of Daniel’s voice as he’d left, drained its usual feisty pep. 

It hadn't even been five minutes, and Johnny already missed him like a phantom limb. Pulling the shirt off his arm, he shook it out carefully and stared at it. It was obvious, now, how ludicrously small it was compared to his own. 

Why couldn’t he have just kept his cool?

No one was around to see as he crumpled the old flannel in his fists and carefully brought it up to his face. No one saw him inhale deeply, breathing in everything about Daniel that was still left in the fabric. 

No one saw as he sat back down, curled protectively around it, in the spot Daniel had recently vacated, staring numbly into space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> er. sorry about that karate soap drama. see you later?? :D
> 
> last note and possibly a warning: irreverence and ill-informed opinions/questions around AIDS. johnny lawrence don't know shit - but in fairness, many, many people didn't. if you want to enter a rage spiral about how to bungle a public health crisis - haaaaa! - do some reading about it sometime. 
> 
> while my efforts to shoehorn it in are overall a bit clumsy - i really do think you probably had to live it to get the attitude right - i didn't really feel great about writing about forbidden gay teen romance in the latter day 1980s (however unrealistic that already is) without at least acknowledging it.


	6. borderline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, i promise if you can stick it out through this one it’s all uphill after! well, for awhile, anyway. it’s still a karate soap opera. 
> 
> as always, thanks for reading - your comments always make me smile and laugh and blush, and it’s so appreciated! this is really just a stupid, silly little thing (well, maybe not little - obv i struggle with economy of words) that I started as a quarantine hobby to get myself back into writing for fun and not just my job, but i’m really enjoying myself and i hope you still are, too!
> 
> oh! and i’m on tumblr now at lessonforwholelife! i have done very little so far and can’t promise I’ll ever do more than that lol, but just in case you wanna say hi!

* * *

The thing about heartbreak was that Johnny had _never_ dealt with it very well. 

Case-in-point: he’d beaten LaRusso into the sand, had Bobby cheap shot him at soccer tryouts, pranked him with blueberry pie on his first day at a new school, and pushed him down a hill on his bike just for flirting with Ali after she dumped him.

(Well. Not just for flirting with Ali.)

When he was hurting, he got mean. Real mean. Waking up the day after the 1984 All Valley and staring at the steaming pile of shit that had become his life was a little bit of a wake-up call in that regard - one for which his admittedly harebrained solution had been to completely avoid any emotional entanglements that might lead to more bad feelings. 

That had resulted in a lot of uncomplicated fun, but it’d done nothing to prepare him for the moment someone did eventually sneak through and metaphorically kick him in the face with feelings. 

The fact that the someone in question had been Daniel LaRusso was, to Johnny, the biggest sign that his life actually was the punchline to some sort of endless cosmic joke.

All of this left Johnny in an extraordinarily bad mood for most of the week, grunting noncommittally in response to any attempts at conversation, being a little shorter than was strictly acceptable to clients, and treating every shrub like it was his own personal enemy. (To his immense relief, nothing so far had necessitated a stop at Mr. Miyagi’s Little Trees. He had no idea how he would have handled that.)

After a few days of this, it seemed like some of Johnny’s coworkers had reached a tipping point.

“You wanna step out back, handle things like men?” Startled, Johnny’s head shot up from where he’d been staring at the ground. Robby was staring at him from where he’d asked the question, amused, leaning against his spade where it was buried in the dirt.

“What?” 

“He can speak!” Robby exclaimed with exaggerated awe. “That brick. You’ve been staring at it like it took a dump in the front seat of that fancy-ass sports car you zip around in. You wanna take it out back and teach it a lesson?”

“Oh.” Johnny looked back down. Truthfully? The brick was brown, which had reminded him of the exact shade of Daniel’s eyes when he’d looked at him a few days ago, at turns pleading and defiant and sad, before walking out of Johnny’s apartment and life - with Johnny’s shirt on his back (or, tied around his waist, anyway), no less. And, well, it had spiraled from there. “No. Sorry.” He bent back down, with renewed focus on the mortar he was supposed to be spreading.

Robby harrumphed.

“Listen, man, it’s pretty obvious something’s crawled up your ass the last couple of days. Deal with it however you want, but some guys are starting to get fed up so you might wanna think about getting it sorted.”

Johnny scowled, not liking the idea that anyone might’ve been talking behind his back when he was already feeling paranoid about, well, everything.

“Whatever, I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” he mumbled, laying a brick with more force than was strictly necessary. Robby shot him a dirty look.

“I’m not worried about you. I _am_ worried about what’s gonna happen to my ass if we lose a paying client because you snapped at another housewife for bitching about the way you trim her azaleas.”

Johnny flushed, embarrassed. He knew he was being a shit, but he’d always kind of hated being called on it.

“Well I’m sure your ass gets plenty of action as it is,” he muttered in a low voice to match the low blow, sneering. 

Robby threw down his spade.

“Okay, forget the bricks, you little jackass. You wanna take it out back with _me_?” He was pissed, and for good reason.

For one reckless moment, Johnny considered it. Fighting had always, always been his refuge when his feelings got too big to process. It’d probably be a good match-up, too - they were physically pretty evenly matched, and Johnny’d never faced off against a boxer before.

Jesus. No. What the fuck was he thinking?

He forced himself to breathe in and out, concentrating on that meditation shit that Miyagi was always preaching about. In, out. Focus. He made a conscious effort to drop his shoulders and clear his head.

“No,” he finally said. “I shouldn’t have said that. That was way outta line.” 

Robby relaxed a bit, still watching Johnny warily.

“Yeah, I’ll say. I thought we were cool, where the hell did that come from?” he asked

Johnny didn’t even know where to start, it was all so sideways.

“I…” he began saying, then trailed off, looking around nervously. He swallowed. “It’s just...how do you do it, man? The uh...well…” Pause. “You know.”

Even if he’d had the words to talk about it, he wouldn’t have wanted to use them within earshot of Encino’s wealthiest douchebags. 

Understanding and no small amount of pity dawned in the other man’s eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” Robby sighed. “They don’t pay me enough for this shit. Alright, come on, let’s take an early lunch and you can tell me about it in the truck.” 

Silently, Johnny nodded.

He told an abbreviated version of the story, haltingly, over sandwiches and cold Cokes from the gas station down the street. It was both harder and easier than he’d thought it would be, getting it off his chest - on one hand, giving it voice made his predicament all the more real. But on the other, it was a relief to have someone know - someone who could probably understand exactly why and how Johnny was struggling with this.

When he’d finished, Johnny sat back in his seat, drained, staring out the windshield at the 76 ball that had seen better days.

Both were quiet for several long moments, before Robby hummed and crumpled his sandwich wrapper, tossing it in the cupholder.

“That’s quite the story, kid. And I’m not gonna say I told you so, but…” He snickered as Johnny pitched his own wrapper at his head. “All right, all right. You want my honest opinion?”

Johnny shrugged, taking a sip of his Coke.

“Quit being a pussy.”

Johnny choked on his drink, eyes watering and nose burning as he snorted up carbonated soda.

“What?” he sputtered once he was able to.

“You heard me. Man up. Face your feelings. Grab that little twink with the tight ass and - "

“Hey!” Johnny yelled, cutting him off. “Cut it out, man!” Insults were whatever, he could deal with that, but observations about Daniel’s ass were strictly off limits. “It’s not that simple,” he groused. 

Robby relented, a little bit.

“Yeah, I know it’s not,” he said, resigned. “It’s shitty sometimes, for sure. But I’ll clue you in on something I had to learn on my own: if you think cutting Daniel out of your life is gonna make it easier to pretend - it’s not.” He fiddled with the tab on his Coke can. “Maybe it will, for a while. But the longer it goes on, the worse it’ll start feeling, especially once you gotta admit the truth.” 

He stared at Johnny, hard. “And you will have to. Even if you don’t ever tell anyone else, one day - maybe not tomorrow, or the next day, but someday - you’re not gonna have any other choice but to admit it to yourself. And when you do? You’re gonna hate yourself that much more for letting go of the person who could’ve helped make it better. I mean, look at me.” 

He hesitated, now, making a decision before continuing on. “I didn’t really have a choice when it came to people finding out, and I didn’t handle it well. I panicked. I made all the wrong calls. And it cost me. A lot.”

Johnny’s chest felt tight and his eyes were burning. He felt the phantom press of Daniel’s nose to his temple and the echo of his voice, soft and sweet - _“I want someone with me. Someone who wants to be there. But I don’t...I don’t think you want to be that person.”_

He pressed his mouth tight and cleared his throat.

“It’s not the same for me though. I still like girls. I had a girlfriend, before Daniel. I loved her, and that wasn’t a lie.”

It sounded half hearted even to Johnny, and he wasn’t sure which one of them he was trying to convince.

“Look, I don’t pretend to know what’s going on in your head,” Robby shrugged. “Fine, you still like girls. It happens. Doesn’t always have to be one or the other.” He paused to light a cigarette, cracking the truck window to let the smoke escape. “But you _don’t_ like a girl right now. You like Daniel, and it sounds like you like him a hell of a lot if you’re sitting here in this shitty truck crying with me about it. You gotta do what’s right for you, but the hope that you _might_ like another girl one day is a lot to hang your future on.”

“It’s not just Daniel, though,” Johnny protested. “It’s our family. Our friends. Everyone. The whole fucking world. I’m totally screwed if this comes out to the wrong people.” 

“That is the risk,” Robby said drily, taking another drag of his smoke. “Does it fuckin’ suck sometimes? Sure. I don’t talk to my parents. I’ve lost friends.” He grimaced. “And I do wish things were different, a lot of the time. For me, though - it’s still not worth lying to myself and hoping I can eventually change. Maybe it is for you, I dunno your situation. But it took me a long time to realize - if the people in your life don’t love you enough to love you this way, then they don’t love you enough, period.”

He had a point. Johnny’s relationship with his stepdad was already as antagonistic as it could be, and the minute his mom had said “I do” to Sid had been when she decided there were limits to how much she gave a shit about what happened to Johnny. 

But still...he remembered the days when it was just the two of them. Remembered the movie nights around the fuzzy TV, and watery instant hot chocolate before bed. Remembered reading from the same tattered storybook, night after night, and not caring, because it was enough that they had each other. 

He guessed, in the end, that it hadn’t been enough - not for her. And yet, he wasn’t sure if he could stand to have those memories tainted any worse than they already were.

“As for the rest of the world,” Robby continued, startling Johnny from his train of thought, “aren’t you both karate whiz kids or something? I think anyone who tried to get the jump on you would be in for a pretty nasty surprise.”

Johnny guessed he had a point. He didn’t like his chances against, like, armed assailants, but he figured both he and Daniel were more than equipped to handle your run-of-the-mill meathead. Johnny huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said with a small smile. Robby nodded approvingly and flicked the remains of his cigarette out the window before rolling it up again.

“Last thing.” He looked a little uncomfortable. “You and Daniel...you were pretty exclusive, yeah?”

Jesus, Johnny was having a hard enough time coping with one guy, he couldn’t imagine trying to juggle more than that. He nodded slowly.

“Good. Just…” Robby looked pained. “Whatever ends up happening with you two, use a fuckin’ condom, alright? Even if you’re pretty sure you’re okay, just do it.”

But for the grace of God did Johnny avoid spraying Coke all over the cab of the truck again. He wanted to protest, but Robby actually looked deadly serious for once and so all he could find it in himself to do was nod affirmatively again. 

“Okay. Right. Got it,” he replied tightly, wishing there was an eject button somewhere that he could slam. Robby exhaled, looking like Johnny felt.

“Okay. Enough of this gay Yoda shit,” he said wryly, restarting the truck. “We gotta get back. Can I count on you to chill the fuck out for the rest of your shift? We’ve got like a mile of pavers to lay.”

“Yeah,” Johnny replied, feeling a little lighter than he had the last couple of days. “Yeah, I can keep it together.”

“Alright.” He pulled out of the parking lot, steering back toward the house they were working on. Johnny drummed his fingers against the passenger door handle, anxious. He had a lot to think about, but there was something else pressing at the back of his mind.

“Hey man,” he said slowly. “I really am sorry. For what I said earlier. That wasn’t cool at all.” The other man laughed and clapped him on the back, hard. Ow. Johnny revised down his chances in a fight.

“If only that was the worst thing I’d ever heard. Thanks Johnny. You’re alright.”

Johnny sure hoped so.

*****

Unfortunately for Johnny, his lucky streak couldn’t last forever. Two days later - as he was still turning that conversation over in his head, feeling calmer but no closer to a conclusion than he had at the start of the week - he picked up an assignment for a client who wanted a few bonsai trees planted.

Just great.

He’d wanted to duck the task, find someone else to take his place, but there wasn’t really a way to do that without looking super weird. He usually jumped at the chance to take that little detour into Reseda.

But it was fine, he thought to himself as he drove, stomach in his throat. He could totally handle this. Quick in and out, cool as a cucumber. 

Maybe Daniel wouldn’t even be there. He hadn’t been last time. Maybe it would just be the old man again.

Johnny held on to that faint, desperate hope right up until he opened the shop door to find the boy in question leaning cheerfully over the counter, dark hair ruffled, chatting up a cute little pixie of a redhead, no Miyagi in sight. Johnny’s stomach plummeted from his throat to somewhere approximately twelve hundred feet below the surface of the earth.

Daniel didn’t notice him, at first (that was service for you!). He was too caught up in looking through some of the Polaroids the little ginger was flipping through for his perusal. There was a glimmer in her eye and a flirtatious tilt to her head that instantly set Johnny’s teeth on edge.

Not that he could blame her. Daniel looked good. Well, he always looked good, but Johnny hadn’t seen him in almost a week - basically an eternity after the last couple of months - so for Johnny, he could’ve been wearing a burlap sack and still been a sight for sore eyes.

Even so, Johnny stopped himself from hungrily tracing up and down every line of his body. That probably wouldn’t go over too well, considering the circumstances of their last parting.

Finally, Daniel tossed a casual glance his way.

“Hi there, can I help…?” He trailed off, eyes widening. If Johnny wasn’t mistaken, he’d seen them brighten for an infinitesimal moment before shuttering closed. 

That probably shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. 

“Johnny?” That single word was surprised and wary, like after all this time they were somehow right back to square one. “What’re you in for today?” This time, he sounded cleaner, more professional, less suspicious - and Johnny fucking hated it.

Forcing himself to unclench, he held up the work order, hoping he looked unbothered and at ease.

“Need to pick up a couple of junipers,” he said evenly, and he congratulated himself on how normal it sounded. 

Quickly, keeping as much space between their bodies and their fingers as he possibly could, Daniel plucked it from Johnny’s hand, giving it a quick once over. He nodded.

“Yeah, those are ready,” he said in that same neutral, colorless tone. “Lemme just go grab them.”

Johnny nodded, wanting to scream, to smash something, to beat at himself until LaRusso would just react to his presence. But he didn’t, he just watched and bit his tongue as Daniel turned on his heel and disappeared behind a little curtained off area near the back of the shop.

In the interim, the redhead turned to him and held out her hand, offering up a perky smile.

“Hi, I’m Jessica Andrews. I work at the pottery shop across the street.”

Johnny hadn’t asked, but his mother had at least taught him manners enough to respond when someone was directly addressing you. Reluctantly, he shook the proffered hand.

“Johnny Lawrence,” he mumbled, volunteering little else. “Nice to meet you.”

“Are you a friend of Daniel’s?” she asked curiously, and oh, if only she knew. He wasn’t totally sure how to answer that, and probably let the silence stretch on for longer than was comfortable as he figured out how to respond.

“We, uh...we went to high school together,” he answered slowly. “At West Valley.” Pause. _Be polite, Johnny_. “Where’d you go? You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

Cute-redhead-Jessica laughed.

“What gave it away?” she asked, amused. “I’m actually from Columbus.” Johnny had no idea where the hell that was. “I was here last year - that was when I met Daniel and Mr. Miyagi - but I left right before Thanksgiving to be with my boyfriend.” Now, she looked a little bummed. “It, uh, didn’t end up working out, so I decided to come back. Luckily I was able to get my job and my apartment back.”

Christ. He hadn’t needed her whole life story. But even he had to admit, there was something weirdly charming about her. She was like a fluffy, adorable little fox. No wonder Daniel seemed into her.

“Oh,” Johnny replied, for lack of anything better to say. “Uh, sorry about your boyfriend?” 

God. He was pretty sure he’d been able to talk to women, once upon a time. (Bobby and Tommy would disagree, but honestly, fuck them. He had moves.)

But Jessica waved it off.

“Yesterday’s news,” she said lightly. “The weather’s better here - and the guys are much cuter.” He didn’t miss the lightning flash speed with which her gaze hopped over to the back of the shop, where Daniel was still fiddling, and back again to Johnny.

He beat back the cold, sick, clammy feeling that had suddenly washed over him, bile rising in the back of his throat.

Johnny wasn’t sure why he hadn’t considered this possibility. After all, if Johnny didn’t want him, LaRusso was a free agent, and based on everything Johnny had seen and heard, he did shockingly well for himself for a five-foot-nothing twerp. A five-foot-nothing twerp with pretty eyes and a great ass.

So it was perfectly normal for this nice, attractive, friendly _girl_ to want to insert herself in his orbit, especially since Johnny hadn’t made it seem like he was even interested in being in the same solar system. It made sense.

But...it wasn’t _fair_ . It wasn’t fair that she could come in here and toss her copper hair and bat her eyelashes over the counter and no one would even blink, but if Johnny even wanted to _think_ about being with Daniel, he had to twist himself into knots freaking out about what people would think and coming up with excuses and backup plans and cover stories and, well - it just wasn’t fucking fair.

“Alright, got your trees,” Daniel called out, interrupting Johnny’s stream of resentful consciousness as he emerged from the back pushing a loaded cart. “Need help getting them into the truck?” he asked levelly, a little friendlier than before but still frustratingly sterile.

“Yeah, I could use a hand, actually,” Johnny said a little more aggressively than necessary, and _there_. A flicker of uncertainty before LaRusso could school his expression. He was doing a shockingly good job for someone Johnny had previously assumed had zero poker face at all, but Johnny was the foremost expert in the field of pushing people’s buttons until they cracked.

And maybe that wasn’t fair, either, but screw fair.

Jessica looked between the two of them, a little put off, and Johnny belatedly realized that this little power struggle probably did look a bit odd to someone who hadn’t attended West Valley High in the fall of 1984.

“Okay, well, I should be heading back now,” she said slowly, like she was trying to puzzle something out. “Daniel, I’ll come by later and we can talk about next Thursday, okay?” Daniel nodded mutely. “It was nice meeting you, Johnny.” She raised a brief, friendly hand that Johnny barely returned, and then she was backing out the door and jogging across the street.

And then, they were alone.

With Jessica gone, Daniel looked a little nervous. He cleared his throat.

“So why don’t I take this one and - “ 

“That didn’t take you too long,” Johnny snapped without thinking, Jessica’s last words still echoing through his head.

“S’cuse me?”

“We can talk about next Thursday, Daniel,” Johnny mimicked in a high falsetto. Daniel whirled on him, eyes bright and livid.

“Don’t you _dare_ \- ”

“So was she the backup plan all along in case things went to shit, or did you at least hold off a couple hours after you left my place?”

“ _Fuck_ you!” Johnny took an unwilling step back, dumbfounded. For as pissy as he could get sometimes, he didn’t think Daniel had ever yelled at him like that. “Fuck you.” Daniel clenched his fists. “Why is it so hard for you to not be an asshole for like five minutes, for once in your life?”

“Part of my charm,” Johnny muttered spitefully.

Now, Daniel deflated, and instead of looking mad, like Johnny was used to and had come to expect, he just looked a little wrecked. “How can you even ask me that?” he continued. “D’you know how hard it was for me to - ” he snapped his mouth shut, unable or unwilling to continue. He shook his head. “No, never mind, forget it. I ain’t the reason you’re so pissy right now and neither is Jessica. You’re just mad at yourself and, like usual, you don’t fuckin' know how to deal with it.”

Shaking his head, he picked up one of the trees and started stomping out toward the truck. Abandoning the cart with the other two, Johnny followed him down the stairs outside the storefront, furious.

“So now you’re a shrink, too?” he snarked. “Why the hell would I be pissed at myself? Go ahead, Dr. LaRusso, lay it on me.”

“You don’t wanna know,” Daniel snarled, shoving the bonsai onto the open bed of the truck and storming up toward the shop again. 

“Oh, so you just get to decide what I do and don’t wanna know, now?” Johnny demanded, following right on his heels back inside. “Like I’m some kinda idiot, like I don’t deserve an ans - ”

Daniel turned abruptly on his heel, and before Johnny could get another word out, he’d grabbed him by the neck of his t-shirt and pulled him down to his level, catching him in a hard kiss. Caught off guard, Johnny stumbled back into the wall, grabbing the other boy’s hip for balance.

He wanted to be embarrassed about the strangled moan that escaped him at the first touch of their lips, but fuck it, it’d been just over a week and he hadn’t realized how bad he’d been starving for it until just now.

Anyone could have walked in at any time, but it didn’t matter because Johnny’s world had tunneled down to the rough clapboard against his back and Daniel’s plush, wet mouth, hot and open beneath his. Their tongues tangled, and Daniel’s satisfied little sigh set Johnny’s head spinning. 

His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and he couldn’t stop moving his hands; he dragged them up LaRusso’s sides and down his back, squeezing his ass and pulling him in closer before retracing the path up and grabbing a fistful of thin fabric. He yanked the other boy’s shirt out from where it was stubbornly tucked into his pants, pushing his hands underneath to rub at warm, smooth skin. Daniel groaned into the kiss, arching sinuously and working one slim leg firmly in between Johnny’s. 

Johnny could feel the long, hard line of his cock even through his jeans, and he pushed against it with his own aching arousal, flushed and undone and desperate for more, dying for everything Daniel could give him, right there in the middle of the fucking bonsai shop.

A car alarm went off just down the street, shrill and piercing, and it had the same impact as stepping into an ice bath. At once, they sprung apart, panting hard, avoiding all eye contact. 

“Shit!” Johnny gasped to himself, running a hand through his hair and pressing his fingers to tender lips. Fuck.

After a minute to collect himself, Daniel spoke again, still catching his breath and tugging at his shirt to straighten it. 

“That’s - ” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat - “ _that’s_ why you’re mad at yourself,” he said. “Because you do want this, but you’re too scared of what’ll happen if you let it mean something.”

Johnny couldn’t even deny it. Not after that. 

“If I thought you just needed time to figure it out,” Daniel continued, a little pleading, “I could give you that.” Then, he hardened. “But what I won’t do is let you pull the same shit with me that you pulled with Ali. It’s messed up and you know it.”

Johnny laughed. It was a harsh, unpleasant sound.

“You think you mean as much to me as that?” Johnny asked roughly.

There was a long, painful silence, and Johnny wished he could eat those words out of existence.

“I don’t know if it matters what I think,” Daniel finally said softly. “I already put my cards on the table, man. Now you gotta be the one to decide.”

Johnny pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, head suddenly pounding.

“Jesus,” he said unhappily, more to himself than anyone else. “What a shitshow.” 

Daniel didn’t disagree. 

Johnny looked down at the floor, tracing the knots and cracks in the wood, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“You’re right, okay?” he said after a long moment of tense silence, forcing the words out around the hard lump in his throat. “No shit I want you. And not just for the - the physical stuff. But it’s fuckin’ hard for me to deal with, okay?” He crossed his arms, refusing to chance a look up at Daniel, afraid what he’d find. “And _maybe_ it’s making me act like an ass.”

Daniel let out a short, surprised laugh.

“Well I guess you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.” Johnny scowled. He was trying to be conciliatory, here! “Look. I know this isn’t easy. And I told you - if you need some time, I can wait for you to figure out what you want. As long as you promise you won’t scare off any more of my friends.” The word “friends” was said with a hard little edge.

“How much time?” Johnny asked after a couple long moments. 

“Well, I won’t wait forever,” Daniel replied, keeping his voice purposefully casual, “but I’m not planning on skipping town in the next couple of weeks.”

Johnny couldn’t imagine doing this for another couple days, let alone a couple weeks. No way. His head would explode. He had to make a call here. 

“A week,” he decided. “Just gimme another week to think it over, okay? Please?”

Daniel sucked in a breath and nodded. 

“Alright. Yeah, I can do that,” he agreed.

T-minus one week to decide whether or not he was gonna blow up his whole fucking life.

*****

After that, time somehow sped up and slowed down, all at the same time. Hours would stretch on for days, and then three days would pass in a blink of an eye. 

They’d agreed, somewhat awkwardly, to meet the following Friday, on neutral ground - the beach, at Johnny’s suggestion, and he hadn’t missed the slight misgiving in LaRusso’s eyes even as he’d assented. Johnny didn’t connect the dots until afterward that that had, after all, been the first place he’d laid Daniel out two years ago, in front of all of the people who might’ve otherwise become his friends. Romantic.

He wished he could say he was closer to a decision now than he had been that day at the shop, but he wasn’t, and it was making him sick of himself. Since joining Cobra Kai, Johnny had always known exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it, and what he’d have to do to get it. _Strike first. Strike hard. No mercy_. 

Now, he knew what he wanted, but couldn’t stop questioning whether or not he should. Whether or not it was worth it, or if he should just set it aside and make every effort to try to be fucking normal again.

But what was normal, anyway? Mindless hook-ups? Dates that went nowhere? Forcing himself to check out chicks even when he didn’t want to because it was expected of him?

It was no surprise that the trash was a little heavier with the Coors this week.

Friday dawned, terrifying and uncertain, and he stumbled haplessly through his usual routines. He’d actually ended up with a surprise afternoon off after a few last minute cancellations, which wasn’t ideal for his cash flow situation, but was a welcome reprieve, at least, from the blistering heat wave that had crept over the Valley. 

(As he’d been shaving that morning, he’d wondered how Daniel and Miyagi and all the little bonsai were coping in this stifling warmth - he knew the shop didn’t have air conditioning. Didn’t even have ceiling fans, now that he thought about it.

Would Daniel be wearing those cute little jean shorts he trotted around in sometimes, the ones that made his ass pop and his legs look two miles long? Maybe with one of those slim little cut off T-shirts he liked to throw on when he didn’t have anyone to impress? He could be a fastidious little thing sometimes, but Johnny liked it best when he just let himself come undone.

Johnny had swallowed dryly, and tried to think of something else to quell the increasing tightness in his pants.) 

When he’d found out about the unexpected free hours, Johnny had taken advantage of the timing to have lunch with his mom at the house, while Sid was still at the office. It had been nice to see her alone, even though he’d ended up regretting his little foray into playing the dutiful son, since she’d also extracted a promise out of him to have dinner with them at the house the following week. Nothing good could come of that.

But now, he was home alone, with a couple hours to kill before he was supposed to meet Daniel, and anxiety was gnawing an ever-growing hole in his belly. _Yes Daniel, I want to be with you. No Daniel, I can't do it. Hey Daniel, run away with me and we can start a new life together as carnies._ How hard could it really be to learn the trapeze?

Seeking a diversion, he turned over the envelope that his mom had sent him home with, some letter that the All Valley Tournament committee had sent to the house. He was kind of surprised that Sid hadn’t burned it, but he guessed his mom must’ve pilfered it away before he could get his mitts on it. Still, it was weird - it was still a little early for them to be sending out registration information, and Johnny was too old to take part either way.

Slitting the flap open with his finger, he skimmed the brief missive, eyes widening as he took in the key information.

“ _Dear Mr. Lawrence….writing to inform you...due to actions in direct violation of Tournament ethics and standards of conduct...the Cobra Kai dojo is permanently barred henceforth from participation in all future iterations of the All-Valley Under 18 Tournament…_ ”

Holy shit. A permanent ban?

Losing sight of the words themselves, he stared blankly at the letter in his hands, unsure what to make of it. 

The action was warranted - while the letter didn’t go into the specifics of what had led to the decision, it would be pretty apparent to anyone that had been there. That final match had been a bloodbath, and the Committee was frankly lucky that LaRusso had pulled it out in the end, or they’d have had a real shitshow on their hands, saddled with a champion who hadn’t exactly covered himself in glory.

But Cobra Kai had been such an irreplaceable part of Johnny’s life for so long, as necessary to his survival as fucking breathing. Erasing them from the tournament felt a little bit like dealing a killing blow to the one thing that had made Johnny, well... _Johnny_.

Sure, Kreese had ended up being as big an asshole as any of the other father figures in (and out of) his life, but it hadn’t always been that way, and Cobra Kai had been more than just John Kreese. It had been the first real friends he’d ever made, it had been an escape from his shitty home life, it had sometimes been the only good part of his day, the only thing that had made perfect sense when everything else had gone out of focus. And now it was gone, probably for good, and he didn’t know how he felt about it.

Just one more thing to add to the growing list.

Fuck. Why couldn’t anything ever just be simple?

*****

Quarter ‘til nine, and Johnny pulled up to the beach, fifteen minutes earlier than their agreed-upon meeting time. He was about crawling out of his skin, the news about Cobra Kai setting him even more on edge than he’d already been, and he needed the extra time to walk along the water, settle his nerves. Pray for a blast of cosmic clarity to tell him what to do. 

He skirted along the fringes of a couple small groups that had already started to set up bonfires, scouting for a good spot to hunker down that was private but not _too_ private. Eventually he found what seemed to be the perfect patch of sand - just by the rocks, not too far from the water - out in the open, easily spotted, but far off enough to feel secluded. 

To his left, a ways away, there was a gaggle of kids who looked to be around the same age as Johnny, and he couldn’t help but eye them longingly. It wasn’t too long ago that that had been Johnny’s life - surrounded by friends and hangers-on, unshakable in his assurance that he was exactly where he was supposed to be, with the people he was supposed to be with. While he didn’t exactly miss being the ace degenerate, he did miss the easy confidence he carried around with the name.

To his right, Johnny was just out of earshot of a couple that was clearly in the midst of a pretty heated argument. He couldn’t see their faces from his angle, but she had her hands on her hips, while he was gesticulating wildly. This, too, felt like an eerie flashback to his life pre-Daniel LaRusso, when his primary concerns were Cobra Kai and whether or not Ali had her panties in a twist over whatever his dickhead move of the week had been.

Johnny checked his watch. Just before nine. Daniel should be arriving any minute. 

Pulse fluttering, he looked up and around the beach, searching for that shock of dark hair and the fine, familiar lines of his face. He fingered the bottom of his shirt (which he wouldn’t admit to changing three times before he’d left the apartment), then wondered if maybe he’d made a mistake picking this spot. Maybe it wasn’t as visible as he’d hoped. Maybe LaRusso was already here but it was taking forever to find Johnny because of this shitty spot. 

He’d just about convinced himself to move further inland when a small, lithe blonde came barreling into him from the side. It was the girl who’d been arguing furiously with her boyfriend. Alone now, she was stomping back to her apparent friend group - the gaggle of college kids Johnny had been envying earlier.

“Hey!” Johnny barked. “Why don’t you watch where you’re -” his jaw dropped. “Ali?”

She stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Johnny?”

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure why they were both so surprised to see each other. It was summer, and this was a public beach - one they’d both spent countless hours on in high school. In fact, he was annoyed that he hadn’t taken into account the fact that something like this could happen - it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

Awkwardly, they sized each other up. She looked damn good, he had to admit - tan and lean, curly blonde hair streaked with highlights from summer days spent out in the sun. It had been just over a year since the last time he’d seen her, and college had definitely been kind. No surprise - she’d always been one of those people who was a knockout no matter what she was doing or wearing.

Finally, she smiled, hesitant but not unkind.

“It’s good to see you,” she said. Johnny was sure it wasn’t, but he’d take the olive branch.

“Yeah, you too. You back from…?” He was blanking on her school. She rolled her eyes.

“UCLA. You know, the school I’ve wanted to go to since sophomore year?” she said lightly, pointedly. Johnny winced. Oh yeah. That had come up in conversation once or twice...or a hundred times.

“Right, UCLA.” He shoved his hands in his pocket and rocked back on his feet. “You here with friends?”

“Yeah,” she nodded towards her group. “Just getting a bonfire in before we head east.” Now that, Johnny remembered. He’d always thought it was strange - the Mills family went to Tahiti around Christmas and Massachusetts in the summer. It didn’t make much sense to him, but maybe it was different when you were born rich. “Are you here with the guys?” 

She was careful to keep her voice neutral, but there was no second guessing how she still felt about “the guys”.

Blood was rushing in Johnny’s ears, panic clawing at his chest. What should he say? What would he say to her if LaRusso walked up to them right now? For that matter, what would he say to _Daniel_? He guessed he could explain it away somehow, but he’d rather not have to. 

The memory of his words from the week prior - _You think you mean as much to me as that?_ \- pounded through his head, an ugly and abrasive reminder. He forced himself to relax.

“Nah, they’re off doing their own thing tonight,” he said. “I’m...supposed to be meeting someone. They’re…” he looked at his watch. Oh. “Fifteen minutes late.” He looked up and around the beach, surprised. It was well past dark, now, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little concerned. LaRusso was a pretty on-time guy - what could be holding him up?

Ali smiled a little sympathetically, no doubt believing he was being stood up. (And maybe she was right, where the _hell_ was Daniel?)

“Well, I’m sure she’ll turn up.” He didn’t bother trying to correct her. “I’ve gotta get back, but it was good seeing you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Johnny said distractedly.

He did a circuit of the beach, wondering if they’d missed each other. He even went back up the bank to check the parking lot - Daniel’s car was kind of hard to miss - but no dice there, either.

Thirty minutes late now, and Johnny was starting to get annoyed (and maybe a little concerned).

He returned to his original waiting place and leaned against the rocks, wondering what his next steps should be. Should he swing by the shop, make sure everything was copacetic? Go home and call? 

Both options felt kind of lame and desperate - if Daniel _was_ standing him up on purpose, he certainly didn’t want to open himself up to further humiliation by not taking the hint. But that just didn’t make any sense - he’d made it perfectly clear exactly what he wanted from Johnny. If he wasn’t standing him up, and something was wrong...he drummed his fingers against the stone. Shit. 

Maybe he just needed to give him some more time. 

Or, maybe he’d decided that Johnny wasn’t worth it after all - not when he could cozy up to cute, willing redheads named Jessica who were within walking distance and weren't dragging around a cart full of ten fucking tons of baggage and damage. 

It _would_ just be Johnny’s luck, to be unceremoniously rejected before he’d even decided whether or not he wanted to be accepted. Christ. How pathetic was he?

Johnny’s musings were interrupted, once again, by Ali.

“Hey,” she said as she came over, chewing her lip nervously. “Did your date not end up showing?” Once again, Johnny didn’t bother correcting her. He looked around the beach with resignation.

“I guess not.”

“Well…” she looked torn. “If you can promise to behave, you’re welcome to join us.”

He weighed the offer. It was more than generous, even if it was extended out of pity, considering the poor terms on which they’d left things. And it gave him something to do besides stare out over the water and contemplate walking in until it was over his head, or give up and go home to drink and sulk. Neither option sounded too appealing.

“You don’t mind?” he asked. She smiled a little.

“Like I said - not if you promise to behave. I know you _were_ capable of that once upon a time, Johnny Lawrence,” she teased. “When you weren’t going around kissing me without my permission.” Teasing with an edge, but...touché. Johnny put his hands up in mea culpa.

“Okay, I deserved that. I know I kinda went off the rails senior year, and I’m sorry about that.”

She crossed her arms.

“There’s no “kinda” about it, but I appreciate the apology. Even if I’m not the only one who deserves one.” She grumbled that last part under her breath. Johnny ignored it. That was not a conversation he was prepared to have with Ali, of all people. “Come on over.”

Slowly, he followed her, and undertook all the necessary introductions. He felt a little out of his depth - some of her friends were holdovers from high school, but a few were new college acquaintances, and it was immediately clear how different a direction their lives were taking from his. Future politicians and doctors and lawyers - and there was Johnny, whiling away the days doing manual labor, wondering where to go next. 

Luckily, all he had to do was claim he was taking a gap year, and they all fell all over themselves agreeing with his very cosmopolitan way of saying he was doing fuck all with his life right now.

He took a long draw of the beer he’d been offered and eyeballed the beach in another slow sweep again, as if he could conjure up LaRusso by thinking about him hard enough. Why the fuck wasn’t he here? What was going on? 

It picked at him, as one beer quickly turned into two, then into a cup of something homemade and oversaturated with tequila. With each fresh drink, Johnny relaxed, losing track of the clock and the other faces on the beach, only looking for Daniel every ten minutes, instead of every five minutes as he had before.

With the help of alcohol, he gradually unwound - he’d missed having friends to screw around with, missed the high of lively banter, and he’d forgotten how funny Ali was when she drank too much. If nothing else, the impromptu was a chance to talk to her in a way he never had after their messy break up.

Even while they’d been dating, Johnny had always had the nagging feeling, in the back of his mind, that she’d been meant for better things than him - she was too smart, too driven, and she wore her status with the comfortable mantle of someone who’d been born into it. But instead of dealing with it, he’d just become more obnoxious and confrontational and invested in Cobra Kai to drown out that feeling, until he’d driven her away and wrecked one of the best things in his life.

She dropped next to him in the sand, giggling, cheeks glowing with whatever sugary vodka-spiked concoction she and her friends had brought in their Igloo (Johnny had had one taste and nearly spit it clear across the sand).

“You know, I forgot how fun you are when you’re not being an asshole,” she slurred happily.

Johnny laughed, pretty tipsy himself.

“I’m turning over a new leaf.” Then he laughed to himself. “A new leaf, get it? Because I,” he suppressed a hiccup, “work in landscaping.”

Ali giggled much harder than the joke warranted, snorting hard. He’d forgotten she did that, and how cute it was. He stretched out on the sand next to her.

“So who was the dickhead you were fighting with earlier?” He said slowly, concentrating on getting each word out. 

“He’s not a dickhead!” She punched him, and not weakly. “He’s...I don’t know what he is. We’ve been kind of seeing each other.” A sigh. “He’s not really my boyfriend, but I think he wants to be.”

Johnny raised his eyebrows.

“And you don’t want that?” He asked, skeptical.

“I don’t know what I want,” she huffed.

Well, join the club. Johnny was surprised to discover that he wasn’t really jealous at all - just vaguely curious, and definitely surprised. Ali had always been so focused and sure-footed. It was weird to hear her question herself.

“Anyway, we were arguing because he’d wanted to spend some time alone together before my family and I go to Cape Cod, but I wanted to be with my friends. I feel like I never get to see anyone anymore, it’s always so go-go-go.” She sighed again. “I like him a lot, but I’ve spent most of the last two and a half years in relationships. Sometimes I just wanna know what it’s like to be on my own.” 

She rolled onto her side, head propped in her hands. “What about you and your no-show girl? What’s the story there?”

Johnny felt his palms begin to sweat. _So, Ali, you know your ex-boyfriend...no, not me, the other one…_

“Uh, I’m...not sure,” he hedged. “We were actually supposed to talk about it tonight, before...she...didn't show. It’s...really, really complicated.” But he guessed the universe had delivered a solution, simple and loud and clear.

Ali huffed.

“Everything is now,” she said glumly. She looked at him again, bright-eyed. “Do you know what I wish sometimes?” Johnny shook his head. “Sometimes I wish we were still back in high school, before we had to start thinking about everything so much. I want to just go to Golf N’ Stuff on a Friday night and then drive up to the Hill and hang out, no worries, no complications.”

Johnny had lost count of the number of times he’d wished for that over the past year and a half. To hear Ali echo that - again, _Ali_ , who had everything in the world going for her - was weirdly gratifying.

From this angle, he could count every freckle on her face in the firelight. It felt like they were creeping into dangerous territory here, but Johnny was a little drunk and kind of pissed and a lot hurt and didn’t care.

“Remember junior prom?” she continued on. Johnny snorted.

“Duh. Dutch spiked the punch and everyone got wasted.” He also remembered she’d ended the night by throwing up on his shoes, but it had been fun before that.

Ali blew a piece of hair out of her face, exasperated.

“Dutch. He was such a jerk.” She paused. “Whatever happened to him, anyway?” 

“He’s in juvie right now,” Johnny shifted uncomfortably. “End of school last year he beat the shit out of a gas station clerk who cut up his fake. He’s lucky he hadn’t turned eighteen yet.”

“Serves him right,” she said defiantly. “You were better than those guys, Johnny. I don’t know why you wasted so much time with them.”

“Hey.” Johnny was annoyed now. “They were my best friends. Dutch had...issues, but the others were okay.” 

“Maybe, but you were always a different person around them. I didn’t like it.” She shifted closer to him. “I did like you, though. I really liked you, for a long time, and I was so upset when it all went south. I never told you that. I just wanted you to go back to the person you used to be. Before Cobra Kai took over.” 

For a moment, Johnny considered pointing out that she hadn’t seemed too upset when she was cozying up to Daniel just weeks after they split. Or that she might never have said these things to him if she hadn’t been drinking. Or that going back in time was impossible. The years, and Kreese, and Cobra Kai - and _Daniel_ \- had done too much to change him. But he didn’t say any of that.

He looked at her again. Her eyes were shining in the glow from the bonfire, and for a second it was like they were in junior year again, right before it all went to hell, when they were still obsessed with each other and had nothing more important to worry about than their next history test or what they were gonna do that weekend.

“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened?” she continued on, softly. “If things hadn’t changed?”

Between the smoke from the fire and the aftereffects of his last drink (maybe one too many, he realized), plus the way Ali was so close now he could feel the soft whisper of her breath across his face, Johnny’s head was swimming. 

He had, in fact, wondered this - too many times to count. What would have happened if he hadn’t let Cobra Kai take over his life? If he hadn’t decided that looking badass and impressing Kreese was more important than being a good person? If he hadn’t forgotten Ali’s birthday? If he hadn’t knocked LaRusso into the sand the first time they met?

Of course he’d wondered. But all that wondering couldn’t change the way things had ended up. And for all that Johnny was unsure about where his life was going, where things stood with Daniel, what was going to happen to him five minutes from now, let alone five years - he wasn’t _unhappy_ , either. 

That was a new realization.

“I guess,” he finally said. “Sometimes. But I - “ he was cut off as Ali put a finger to his lips.

“Shhhhh,” she giggled a little, and he winced as a few drops of spit landed on his face. Ew. “Can I try something? Just one time, just to see?” 

Transfixed, he nodded, with her finger still pressed to his mouth. Distantly, he knew this was a terrible idea. But it was like he was under a spell, possessed by the spirit of a fifteen year old Johnny who, in a crowded theater full of people, had only been able to see Ali.

Slowly, deliberately, she slid her fingers down to cradle his chin and pressed her lips against his, lightly at first, then firmer as she leaned into it. 

All things considered, it was a pretty chaste kiss - dry, closed lips, laced with the slight sweet aftertaste of her drink. Still, it was nice enough - it had always been nice kissing Ali. She smelled good, like the floral perfume she’d been wearing for ages, and being with her like this again was like walking into a crowded room of old friends - comforting and familiar.

But as one long moment turned into two, then three, Johnny realized that was all it was - nice. There was no heat, no spark, no drive to press further and delve deeper and cling closer until it was too difficult to determine where he ended and she began. No dark eyes, no strong, scratchy jaw, no - 

All at once, he yanked his head back - _what the hell was he doing?_ \- and in her eyes, he could see the same realization that he was sure was reflected in his.

“Anything?” she ventured. 

“Nope,” he said, popping the “p”. “Like kissing my sister.” 

She smacked his arm.

“Asshole. You don’t _have_ a sister.” She exhaled, and sat up, looking tired all of a sudden. “Guess we really are growing up, aren’t we?” She made a face.

“Speak for yourself.” Johnny laid back in the sand, considering. 

That kiss had been clarifying. He’d known, intellectually, that he and Ali were done with each other - they had been, for over a year. But this was the first time he’d really understood it, the first time he’d really realized exactly how over it - how over her - he was.

For a long time, he’d thought that maybe she was the one that got away, and that if things had been different, they might still be together, charting the course expected of them. 

But that wasn’t true, was it? Everything that had happened had been meant to happen. He and Ali had always had an expiration date, their relationship just one important stop on the way to separate endpoints. 

But he’d been holding on to the idea of Ali for so long - and maybe not even Ali herself, but the fantasy that he could make it work, conform to the ideal, slip into the role that everyone had expected of him in high school - that it was cleansing to realize, irrevocably, that that life was no longer in the cards, and that he didn’t want it to be. 

Dammit. He needed to find Daniel. He didn’t know why the other boy hadn’t shown, but he knew now that refusing to find out why wasn’t an option. If Ali was his past, then Daniel was, if not his future, then at least his present. And that was exactly where he wanted him. 

For the very first time, Johnny could admit to himself without doubt or hesitation that he did, in fact, want to give this thing with Daniel a real shot. To see what could become of them, without the weight of expectations, or high school drama, or the spectre of Kreese and Cobra Kai. 

Make no mistake, he was still scared shitless of everything that implied, but he was done letting it hold him back. That wasn’t who he was. He wanted Daniel, full stop, and there was still enough Cobra Kai left in him that taking what he wanted was the only option. If that meant swallowing his pride and seeking him out to plead his case, he would do it.

Time to quit being a pussy.

He stood, a touch unsteady, and squeezed Ali’s shoulder. 

“I’m gonna split,” he announced. “Thanks for letting me crash your party.” She smiled, standing too to face him.

“Anytime,” she said, and he could tell she meant it, cheeks pink from alcohol and the heat of the fire. She reached up and hugged him for a long, fond moment. “It really was good to see you.”

“Even after I broke your radio?” Johnny asked ruefully. She laughed, and nodded.

“Even after you broke my radio. Though I do still think you should consider - Daniel?” Johnny stared at her, wondering if the alcohol had gone to his head - or hers. What was she - ? 

Ali pushed past him, waving.

“Daniel? Is that you? Hold up!” She tromped off across the beach after the slim, dark figure that was stumbling and backing away from their group as fast as he could over the sand.

With a sickening lurch, Johnny realized that - drunk goggles or not - Ali wasn’t mistaken. That _was_ Daniel - frozen by Ali’s greeting, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world right now. Like he was trapped in a bad nightmare, playing out before him in vibrant technicolor.

Heart hammering, Johnny wondered how long, exactly, Daniel had been on the beach, and what he had seen.

Enough, it seemed, as his eyes zeroed in on Johnny, liquid brown and wounded, trudging toward him with the air of an inmate on his way to execution. He looked like he’d seen enough.

Welp. Guess he hadn’t been stood up after all.

_Fuuuuuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.) are tw for hetero lip contact needed? anyway, fun fact: i had this written before CK3 came out, and while i don't always use the show as a reference point for this fic, i think it validates to some extent the series of events here, which i understand may not be popular. also, not sure that i really need to say this, but please no hating on ali? she's as confused a hashtag teen as any of them, and it's not like she knows the whole story.
> 
> 2.) writing Johnny POV is such a weird challenge - on one hand i think he’s lowkey got enough anxiety that he internalizes and overthinks absolutely everything as much as he does in this fic, but then he just goes tl;dr and chooses violence anyway. otoh, i think maybe this chapter could be 99% shorter and still cover every single thought that goes through his head. it feels like CK would have me believe the latter. so. idk.
> 
> 3.) lastly, this is super dumb, but early in the chapter, when Johnny says “cut it out, man!” i picture him saying it in the squeaky little cracking voice he uses when he tells Kreese “you’re really sick, man!” in kk2, and it makes me cackle EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. (this is probably a good use case for why i need a tumblr - so i'm not filling my notes with drivel like this lol.)


	7. leather and lace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> presented without comment.
> 
> i lied. three comments: 1.) this is a monster, even by my standards, but i wanted it all in one chapter, so sorryyyyyyy. 2.) i hope you like this one better than the last one! 3.) as always, so many thanks for reading, commenting, kudosing, etc. it keeps me motivated and one of these years i will respond to you all as you deserve.
> 
> warnings: language, overly wordy s m u t

* * *

Johnny never threw up when he drank.

He’d discovered this odd talent in junior year, when he and Dutch were dicking around one night and decided to see who could shotgun the most beer in the shortest amount of time. 

Five minutes and six cans later, Johnny felt like he could maybe go for another six while Dutch was busy hugging the porcelain throne.

Getting sick had just never been his drunk M.O., so the drinks he’d had tonight - more than a couple, but far fewer than his record, and fewer probably even than his average - couldn’t be blamed for the way his stomach was violently churning right now, ready to blow chunks at the slightest provocation.

The miserable glint in Daniel’s eye, and the very deliberate way he wasn't looking at Johnny? Well, that was a different story.

It was an odd, uncomfortable little standoff they all found themselves in, and Johnny wondered just how many times he was going to be forced to relive the end of 1984 before the universe finally decided that enough was enough.

“Hey, Ali,” Daniel finally said, plastering on the shit eating grin that Johnny had seen too many times to count when Daniel was dealing with difficult customers. “Long time no see.” He paused. “Hi, Johnny,” he acknowledged more quietly.

“LaRusso,” Johnny mumbled as a greeting, feeling like an absolute turd. 

Ali glanced between them for a moment, probably assessing the likelihood of a repeat of their first meeting, before turning her attention back to Daniel.

“Hi, how’ve you been?” she asked hesitantly, seemingly realizing that now that she’d gotten them snared in this little web, there would be no smooth, easy exit route. Given the resigned set to his mouth and shoulders, Daniel evidently recognized this as well.

“Well, you know me. Never a dull moment,” he said uncomfortably. “You? How’s, uh, Mr. UCLA?” The question was a little barbed, as his eyes flicked, accusatory, between the two blondes before him.

Ali’s eyes narrowed at the dig, and she crossed her arms. Johnny took a momentary break from his internal mental meltdown to wish he’d asked after her side of the breakup - it seemed like there might be a more interesting story there than even the one LaRusso had told.

“Oh, he’s fine. He had to head out,” she lied flippantly, glossing over their fight and everything that had come after, Johnny noticed. “Early day tomorrow.” She looked around, then, noticing now that Daniel appeared to be alone. “What about you, who are you here with?”

It wasn’t mean, but it was pointed, and the silence that followed her question was oppressive. Johnny wanted to die. He wanted to sink into the sand and suffocate and die.

“No one,” Daniel said flatly. “It’s just me.” With less subtlety than Johnny thought he might’ve been aiming for, he started shuffling toward the bank that led up to the parking lot.

Ali deflated, hackles going down as guilt crept into her expression (evidently, the only person she was capable of being rude to for more than three minutes at a time was Johnny himself).

“Oh! Well, if you want, you can - "

“Actually, I have an early start tomorrow myself, so I should probably be getting home,” Daniel interrupted her, putting his hands up. “It was nice to see you both, as always.” He was so eager to escape that it was barely even sarcastic. He damn near sprinted away, hopping up the steps two at a time to make his escape.

Johnny felt rooted to the ground, unable to comprehend the absolute stupidity of the last ten minutes. Daniel had shown. Daniel was beyond late for some inexplicable reason, but he had still come - even though he couldn’t have known Johnny would still be here. Couldn’t _expect_ that Johnny would still be here. He hadn’t stood Johnny up at all.

And in return, Johnny had repaid him by...playing tonsil hockey in the firelight with their mutual ex-girlfriend. (Alright, there hadn’t been any tongue, but Johnny didn’t think he was going to be getting extra credit for that.)

“Shit!” he finally exploded, lunging forward to follow the other boy. “I gotta go, Ali, I have to - Daniel!” he called out, running now himself. “Daniel!”

He didn’t know how it looked to Ali, but right now he really didn’t care. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks for years of soccer sprints as he vaulted up the stairs and crossed the parking lot in seconds flat, pinning Daniel to the side of his car before he could hop into the driver’s seat. “Daniel! Wait - just wait, dammit, please!” 

It was like trying to wrangle a large, slippery, particularly hostile fish, as Daniel thrashed and squirmed to get away, more fury than finesse. There were no acrobatics in the world Johnny could have performed to duck the surprise elbow he took to his ribs, and only years of training kept him holding on as he coughed and sputtered through the explosion of pain in his left side. 

“Goddammit, LaRusso! Chill the fuck out and let’s talk for a minute.”

“Talk? Talk?” He had never seen Daniel like this, trembling and manic and practically incandescent with rage as he finally ripped out of Johnny’s restraining hold, turning to face him. “Fine, let’s talk, man.” He clenched his hands into fists. “Let’s talk about how I never wanna talk to you again.”

Johnny felt that like a crane kick to the face.

“Come on, please, I know what that looked like, but you gotta - ”

Daniel barreled on, not even listening. He was cracked wide open, spilling anger and hurt all over the pavement.

“If you didn’t want to be with me, you could’ve just said so,” he declared harshly.

Johnny glanced around nervously. That had been a little loud. 

“That’s not what I - “

“I mean, I’ll give you it was very clever, this little sideshow. Poetic, even.” Daniel sneered. “Only thing missing was the spaghetti dinner. You got a real flair for the dramatic, John, inviting me to the beach where I first met you and your little gang of goons, staging that cozy little fireside scene with Ali - a real full circle moment! Did she know she was part of the charade this time, or did you make it another two-for-one deal by playing her too?”

Wait...he thought…?

“What the _fuck_ ,” Johnny exploded, remorse forgotten. “You think I set this up? Jesus Christ, LaRusso, you’re like, two hours late - I thought you weren’t coming! I shouldn’t even still be here! You actually think I was just hanging around the beach, waiting for you to show so I could stick it to you by laying one on my ex-girlfriend? I’m not that fucking pathetic.”

Daniel laughed, and it was mean, and unforgiving, and terribly unlike him.

“You expect me to believe you just ran into her by _accident_ , on the same night, around the same time and place we had plans to meet?”

“Yeah, I do! It’s a weekend night on a public fucking beach that we used to hang out on a lot!”

“And what the hell would you call running into her lips with your mouth?” Daniel retorted. 

Incensed, Johnny opened his mouth to snap back before he registered what the other boy had said and the wind went right out of his sails. Oh yeah. Of the two of them, he _was_ the one who’d fucked up the most within the last half hour. Within the last two years.

“I - it was a mistake,” Johnny bit out. “A big one. I thought you’d decided not to show and I got mad and I screwed up, okay? That probably shouldn’t be some huge surprise to you by now,” he admitted grudgingly. “But I can explain it if - if you’re willing to let me.”

Daniel stared at Johnny’s sand spattered shoes, and Johnny willed him to look up again, to see the open honesty in every line of his face. But he kept his eyes glued to the ground.

“Y’know, I was gonna come here tonight and tell you to forget everything I said the last couple weeks,” Daniel said slowly. Johnny’s heart swan dove into his stomach. “Because I don’t need a...a relationship, or whatever. I just want you, and I figured I’d take you any way you wanted.” 

His mouth twisted. “You wanna talk about pathetic? That’s pretty pathetic. But I didn’t care. And now, you don’t even want that.” Exhausted, he pressed the heels to his hands to his face, keeping them there. 

Johnny’s heart felt like it was splitting in two, bleeding out into his chest cavity, the last vestiges of pride and anger seeping out of him like helium from a punctured balloon. Daniel had it so wrong, and Johnny wanted to reach out to him, to reassure him with his touch the way he couldn’t with his words. But he didn’t dare do it while they were so exposed - this little spat was already attracting enough attention. He was honestly surprised Ali hadn’t come running up after them to make this shitshow a five-star catastrophe.

“Daniel,” he pleaded in a low voice. “Just fucking...do your breathing or something, like Mr. Miyagi always tells you to. What you saw wasn’t the whole story. You don’t know what I want.”

“You’re right, that’s the problem,” Daniel hiccupped. “I don’t know what you want. From me. I don’t know what anyone ever wants from me.”

Johnny was getting lost. This felt like it was spiraling into a bigger issue than his relationship with Johnny, and he was pretty sure that it wasn’t something they were gonna be able to fix in one night in a parking lot off the highway. 

For now, though, he thought he might at least be able to handle the first part.

“I’m gonna tell you,” he said in the most soothing voice he knew. It was unpracticed, but he thought it was alright. “If - if you still want me to, I’m gonna tell you what I want. But you gotta breathe, and I think we should take this somewhere else, because people are kinda starting to stare.”

Daniel’s face remained frozen, still buried in his hands, for several seconds before he nodded, briefly, his assent. He dropped his hands and scrubbed his jacket sleeve across his face a few times, and when he looked up, his eyes were red and tired but dry. He looked hollowed out, listing sideways against the car door.

“Are you...are you okay?” Johnny asked hesitantly. Probably a stupid question, but the adrenaline of the fight had sobered him up painfully, and now he was exhausted and desperately wishing he could get a mulligan on this evening. 

“Yeah,” Daniel replied dully. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Do you want to - ”

“I’m going home,” Daniel cut him off, stepping into his car and slamming the door. That might have been more final in something that wasn’t an open-top convertible, but Johnny bit his tongue against the comment. “You can go - you can go wherever the fuck you want, but I’m going home.”

That wasn’t exactly an invitation, but Johnny had done more with less, and though his head was starting to pound - hangover setting in before all of the alcohol could fully dissipate, which was just great - he wasn’t about to give up now, even as LaRusso unceremoniously pulled away, with nary a glance behind him.

There was no way he was letting it end here, Johnny thought to himself as he started his car. If he had to go to Miyagi’s house and fight the old man for a chance to explain himself, he’d do it. 

He’d get his ass kicked six ways to Sunday, but he’d do it. That was how fucking stupid Daniel LaRusso made Johnny Lawrence.

On the drive there, he tried very hard to both pseudo-meditate his headache away and go over what he was going to say to make his case. Neither was going very well, and his hopes of convincing Daniel that he wouldn’t be better served leaving him out with yesterday’s garbage were plummeting by the second.

Pulling into Miyagi’s little yard, he was surprised to see that even though Daniel had beat him there, he was still in the front seat of his Ford, head buried in his arms, which were folded over the steering wheel. Johnny’s heart gave a small, painful lurch. Jesus, this kid

Steeling himself, Johnny vaulted out of his car and marched right over to LaRusso, who still hadn’t looked up, even though he must’ve heard Johnny drive in. 

“I don’t want Ali,” Johnny declared, probably too loudly for the hour of night. 

Daniel snapped up, staring at Johnny like he was a ghost.

“What the hell - ”

“I don’t want Ali, okay? I don’t want her. Or any girl. I want you, goddammit.” He was getting agitated. “I’ve wanted you since you sucker punched me in the face. I know I acted like a huge pussy and tried to pretend it wasn’t real, and now you’re sitting here thinking I still want Ali fucking Mills when the truth is I think about you, like, all the time. And when I’m not thinking about you it’s because I’m forcing myself not to and it’s _fucking_ annoying.”

Daniel gaped at him.

“What’re you even doing here?” he asked dumbly. Johnny bristled.

“You said I could go wherever the fuck I wanted. I wanted to go where you were. So. So I did.” He was starting to feel kinda stupid. “If that’s okay, I guess.” He looked down and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I know I fucked it all up, okay? And I’m sorry. But - but if you want to be with me you probably gotta get used to that. Well, not the kissing Ali part, I promise I won’t do that again.” He raised his chin defiantly. “The fucking up part, though, I do that kind of a lot. But that - that doesn’t mean I don’t want you. Or that I want someone else. Even if it looks like I do.” 

Fuck, his temples were throbbing. Had that even made sense? He had no idea what he was saying anymore.

“If _I_ want to be with you?” Daniel asked, disbelieving. “When exactly did that become a question, or - or an option?”

Never let it be said that Daniel LaRusso didn’t go straight for the jugular.

“About an hour ago,” Johnny muttered, scuffing the dirt. Daniel looked like he was struggling to wrap his head around all this, as he got out of the car.

“So you - you were kissing Ali not even two hours ago, but now all of the sudden you’ve had your big gay epiphany?”

Johnny scowled. 

“Well I wouldn’t call it _that_ \- ”

Daniel ignored him.

“And now, we’re standin’ in the middle of Mr. Miyagi’s yard at the asscrack of dawn, and you’re dictating the terms of what I’ll need to get used to if _I_ want _you_?”

Silence.

“Uh, did you need me to agree with you or was that rhetorical?”

Daniel threw his hands up.

“Why the hell’d you kiss her, man? Why?” He still kinda looked like he wanted to kneecap Johnny, but that wasn’t too much of a deviation from the norm, and it was a promising improvement over how destroyed he’d been at the beach.

“It was stupid, okay? I don’t have a great explanation for it,” Johnny admitted. “I thought you stood me up, and I was mad. I was feeling low and she was weirdly nice to me and - and we started drinking, and then she started talking about high school, and she was there, and you fucking weren’t.” Pause. “Where _were_ you?” Johnny cringed inwardly at how plaintive that sounded, but it seemed to soften Daniel up some, his shoulders dropping.

“My mom called,” he said. “I guess - I guess my Uncle Louie had a setback earlier, and she was upset. It took awhile to get off the phone, and then I still had to close up. Mr. Miyagi’s visiting a buddy of his in San Francisco this weekend, so I couldn’t ask him to help. And I tried to call you, but you don’t have a machine. Not that it would have mattered, I guess,” he added with an edge.

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. Johnny did have a machine, but it was still sitting in the box it had come in when his mom gave it to him for Christmas, with strict instructions to use it and to stop ignoring her calls. Six months later...

And now, Johnny felt like a total worm. He glanced at Daniel out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m sorry,” he said slowly, “about your uncle. I know she’s been taking care of him for awhile.”

Daniel shrugged helplessly.

“He’ll be alright. For a sixty-eight year old guy with emphysema, anyway.” He leaned back against his car. “I’m sorry, too,” he said grudgingly. “For making you wait. If I’d been in your shoes I probably wouldn’t have handled it any better.”

“I still shouldn’t have done it,” Johnny said miserably. “I knew it wasn’t right. But my head’s been so fucked up, and she was - familiar, you know? Normal. I thought maybe she could make me normal again too.” The pounding in his head was turning into a vice grip around his temples. “Whatever happens here, you gotta know I wouldn’t do that shit to you on purpose. Not anymore.” 

Daniel looked down, a little shamefaced.

“Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t have said that. It was shitty. It just...brought up some bad memories,” he said vaguely, and Johnny couldn’t put his finger on it, but he was getting that feeling like maybe they were talking about more than that night at the country club in high school, something bigger.

But there was no way they were getting to that tonight. Not when Johnny wanted nothing more than to chug a glass of water, pop an aspirin and plant face first into a pillow for ten hours. 

“I get it,” Johnny said carefully. “I’m kind of an expert in saying shitty stuff I don’t mean. But maybe that’s something we’re gonna have to talk about, if it’s gonna be a thing.” If we’re going to be a thing, he left unsaid.

Daniel rubbed his face.

“Jesus, yeah, add it to the list,” he said dryly, and Johnny didn’t like how discouraged he sounded. They had a lot of shit to wade through, sure, but it also felt like they were finally fucking getting somewhere.

“I got nowhere else to be,” Johnny offered hopefully. Daniel stared at him, searching.

“You’re serious,” he finally said, like he hadn’t considered it as an actual possibility until just now. “You’re not just yanking my chain. You really wanna do this.”

Oh, for the love of…

“Daniel,” Johnny said impatiently. “There is an old man who lives in that house, right over there,” he gestured, just in case Daniel couldn’t see it for himself, “who has flipped me over his shoulder and chopped me in the gut. He kicked my friend _in the balls_. And knowing that - knowing that it could just as easily happen again - I still followed you tonight. Yes, I am fucking serious.”

Daniel picked at his sleeve, thinking it over.

“You don’t think I could kick you in the balls?” he asked, sounding vaguely offended.

Not the fucking point, but if that’s how LaRusso wanted to play it...

“I think you like my balls exactly the way they are,” he said matter-of-factly, challenging

Lo and behold, was that - was that the start of a _smile_? Point, Lawrence!

Daniel covered his mouth, but the damage was done - Johnny was already holding a mental victory parade for himself.

"You might have a point there,” Daniel conceded. “All right, so you’re serious.” He laughed helplessly. “You know, I thought a lot about how this night was gonna go, and it still managed to blow all my expectations outta the water.”

Johnny chanced stepping in a couple inches closer.

“In...a good way?” he ventured. Daniel looked him up and down without moving his head.

“Maybe a little bit of both,” he said, and if Johnny wasn’t mistaken - and he hoped he wasn’t - his hips were tilted a touch more invitingly than they had been a few minutes ago. 

Ah, well, fortune favored the brave, or whatever that saying was that Johnny’s mom liked to parrot when she thought he needed to nut up and deal with his shit.

Praying he didn’t actually get kicked in the balls, Johnny pushed his way into LaRusso’s personal space, planting both hands on the cool door of the car behind him for balance, caging the other boy in. 

Daniel raised an eyebrow but made no effort to move away.

“Feeling confident?” he asked drily, but the warm line of his body was pressed long and lean against Johnny’s, so close he could feel how his breathing had ticked up at their closeness, betraying his deliberately flat tone.

“Strike first,” Johnny whispered, so close now that their lips were nearly brushing, and without waiting for a reply he sealed their mouths together, sound and sure. 

Daniel stiffened for a moment before sighing into it, looping his arms around Johnny’s neck like it was a lifeline, like he might float away if he didn’t hold tight.

It was like coming home. Johnny kissed him like his lips were the best thing he’d ever tasted - and maybe they were - hungry and frantic at first, then slower, savoring every flavor against his tongue as it swept once, twice, three times against Daniel’s. 

It was everything he’d missed in his kiss with Ali; all the desire, and danger, and delight. It was the hyperawareness of both their bodies - hearts pounding, goosebumps at the press of skin on skin. How LaRusso’s narrow hips quivered and tilted forward under Johnny’s wide, rough hands as he explored his mouth more deeply. The way he threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of Johnny’s neck with one hand and gripped the back of his shirt with the other.

Johnny broke away with a gasp, dragging in a mouthful of air, pushing his forehead against Daniel’s and trying very hard not to stare at how red and slick and kiss-swollen his lips were now.

“Feeling pretty confident,” he ground out, unable to resist the crack.

“God, you suck. You’re so lucky you’re good at that,” Daniel breathed, brown eyes glazed in the soft glow of the porch, tongue darting out to lick his lips. Like a magnet, Johnny chased it back inside Daniel’s mouth with his own, losing another few scorching seconds.

“Better with you,” he panted when he was finally able to drag himself away. He was trying to figure out if it would be unsavory to try to finagle an invitation into Daniel’s bed after the night they’d had when the pounding in his head reasserted itself and he winced.

“What?” Daniel asked with concern, noting the frown. 

“Nothing.” He huffed at the other boy’s unimpressed glare. “Alright, so there was tequila. And now it kinda feels like elephants are tap dancing inside my skull. But I know I deserve it!” he yelped as Daniel’s glower intensified. “I wouldn’t hate maybe going to sleep though?” He leaned in again. “If you’ve got a spot I can rest my tired, aching head.”

Daniel smiled slowly.

“That can be arranged,” he said in a low voice, and Johnny cheered to himself. “I think Mr. Miyagi keeps a spare futon around here somewhere!” he followed up cheerfully, pushing Johnny away to head into the house, leaving him to curse quietly alone in the dark.

Fine. If his sentence was to sleep on a shitty mattress on the floor for the night, he’d serve it. 

A few minutes of rummaging turned up the thin, dusty cushion, and Johnny took a moment to rethink his resolve. But it was surprisingly comfortable, and Johnny was so wiped he probably could have slept on nothing but the hard gravel of the driveway.

As he stretched out, having shucked his jeans and overshirt, Daniel shuffled over with a glass of water, a pillow, and a blanket. 

“Here,” he said almost shyly, unfolding his fist to reveal two white pills. “For your head.” 

Touched, Johnny accepted the aspirin and swallowed them dry, taking the blanket and the water, too. 

“Thanks,” he said softly. Daniel hesitated, staring at Johnny on the floor with something a little like longing, before steeling himself and turning to head back to his room. 

Before he could walk away, Johnny caught and squeezed his hand. Startled by the innocent affection of the gesture, Daniel looked down at him, and Johnny could swear he saw the glimmer of starlight in his eyes. “I’ll see you in the morning, Daniel.” 

Daniel blushed and nodded, squeezing back.

“Night, Johnny,” he replied softly before slipping into his room and sliding the door shut. 

Johnny was out almost before his head hit the pillow.

*****

The next morning, Johnny woke with cotton mouth, crusty eyes, and the jarring sense that he was not where he was supposed to be. He was...where was he? He was on the floor, that’s where he was. Why?

Johnny cracked one eye open, taking in the rustic wood decor, and immediately remembered. That’s right. He was at Mr. Miyagi’s, after a pretty spectacularly disastrous evening - though it had ended alright, all things considered.

Still. He rolled onto his back, rubbing his hands down his face and resisting the urge to punch his pillow. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

In the sober light of day, Johnny contemplated his current lot in life. 

  1. Con: He had gotten semi-fucked up and kissed Ali.
  2. Pro: Present and future punishments notwithstanding, LaRusso still seemed interested in Johnny both for his bangin’ bod and as a person (probably against his better judgment).
  3. Con: Jesus, his ribs hurt. Why the hell - oh that’s right, LaRusso had elbowed him. 
  4. Pro: Somehow, for some ungodly reason, Daniel still seemed interested in Johnny, not just for his bangin’ body but _as a person_. (Still probably against his better judgment.)
  5. Con: He had to piss like a racehorse, and his ribs hurt like hell. Ugh.
  6. Pro: See pros one and two. Also, it smelled like bacon. 



Reluctantly, Johnny rose and shuffled over to the bathroom as his bladder protested ever more insistently. He winced as he caught a look at himself in the mirror, tired and puffy eyed. After taking care of business, he splashed cold water on his face and raked his hands through his hair, attempting to salvage the rat’s nest atop his head. 

He stayed there, staring at himself for one minute, then two. He squared his shoulders. Time to face the music.

Johnny followed the scent of frying meat to the kitchen, perking up as he detected a whiff of brewed coffee as well. He leaned against the doorframe, unnoticed, grinning as he watched Daniel busy himself in front of the stove. Deftly, he scrambled eggs and flipped strips of bacon, humming along quietly to the soft music playing on the radio. 

All at once, Johnny was hit with a fondness so intense it fucking hurt, filling his throat and spilling out of his chest and curling in tender trails, inexorably, toward the boy who’d elbowed his way into becoming the center of his universe. 

God, he was so obsessed with this little punk. And it wasn’t just because he wanted to strip him down and make him shudder with pleasure until he forgot his own name (though he couldn't deny that he did want to spend a lot of time doing that).

It was just that there was this inherent softness to him, this palpable goodness that he wore like a second skin, even when he was being such a little shit that Johnny wished he had two yammering heads so he could knock them together. He was inherently kind, in a way Johnny didn’t quite understand but was trying really hard to. 

Because softness didn’t come naturally to Johnny, but sometimes when he looked at Daniel at the right angle or in the right light, he thought maybe he could learn it. Learn it from the way his eyes crinkled at the corner when he smiled at something that truly delighted him - like a perfectly executed crescent kick or that little calico cat that lived under Miyagi’s deck. Learn it from the way he was somehow able to look at Johnny and see more than just the dickhead who beat him to within an inch of his life on multiple occasions.

He was just a total goner for this idiot, and he couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid about it for so long.

Well, he couldn’t do anything about that now, but he could do his best to make it up to the other boy - and it seemed, maybe, like Daniel was willing to let him.

Lost in thought, Johnny didn’t even notice that the song had changed and Daniel had transitioned from humming to fully singing along. He rolled his eyes. Fucking Chicago. Of course. 

He crept further into the kitchen. Daniel still hadn’t registered his presence, bopping around as he was, flipping bread into the toaster, slinging his spatula. Johnny was almost there, right behind him…

Abruptly, Daniel executed a clever little spin move that brought him face to face with Johnny, and he jumped about ten feet in the air, releasing a surprised, unholy yowl that sent the blonde doubled over laughing. 

“You fucker!” Daniel fumed, thwacking Johnny wherever he could reach with his eggy spatula, doing nothing to halt the other boy’s laughter. “The hell are you doing sneakin’ up on people in their own kitchens?”

“Technically,” Johnny choked, red in the face, “it’s Mr. Miyagi’s kitchen.” Daniel glowered, unimpressed by semantics.

“I could’ve killed you, man!” 

Johnny snorted, tears streaking down his face.

“With what, your Peter Cetera impersonation?” _Thwack!_ “Ow, fuck! That hurt, you little shit!”

The sting helped stem his laughter, and the room started coming back into focus. Daniel slung the spatula over his shoulder and scowled at Johnny imperiously.

“More where that came from if you keep it up, asshole.”

Johnny straightened up, trying to catch his breath. 

“Whatever, it was worth it, that’s the funniest shit I’ve seen since -” he cut off abruptly, eyeing Daniel fully for the first time. “Hang on a sec. Is that...is that my shirt?”

Daniel squinted at Johnny like he was stupid, opening his mouth on autopilot to probably verbalize this thought before looking down at himself and freezing. Oh. 

It was, in fact, Johnny’s shirt, the flannel he’d accidentally stolen when he’d walked out of his apartment two weeks ago. It was too big on him, sleeves rolled up, hanging off his skinny shoulders and torso, hem skimming the bottoms of the shorts he’d gone to sleep in.

Daniel looked back up at Johnny, gaping like a fish and face darkening to a beet red. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, that stupid spatula still dangling from his fingers.

“Oh, is this your shirt?” he said defiantly, brown eyes sparking. “Found it on the floor.”

He was deliberately careless, but there was an uneasiness to his posture - he’d been caught out, and he knew it, had revealed something he hadn’t meant to. 

Johnny opened his mouth to tease him - _“Found it on my floor, you mean?”_ \- but what came out was this, instead:

“I love you.” 

At last, Daniel’s poor, abused spatula went clattering to the floor.

Oh shit. 

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Daniel demanded, hands on his hips.

Was he?

Johnny thought about it a minute, and realized...oh _shit_.

“Yeah,” he replied, unable to fully suppress a second wave of slightly hysterical laughter. “Yeah, I am.”

“And you - you think this is funny?” Daniel looked torn, unsure if he should be hurt, annoyed this was happening again, or just as amused as Johnny appeared to be.

“Kind of!” Johnny gasped, giggling helplessly and sliding down to the floor. 

Daniel blinked at him, before turning the oven burners off and folding himself down as well.

“Johnny…”

His name fell on deaf ears. Johnny had no real sense of how long he sat there, overcome. It could’ve been seconds, or it could’ve been hours.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Johnny wheezed once he was able to talk again. “Daniel, I fucking love you, what the fuck?” He paused. “Oh shit, am I being a dick right now?” 

Suddenly this was a whole lot less funny. He looked anxiously over at Daniel, who was sitting cross-legged next to him, waiting patiently.

“Truth be told, this is all very interesting,” Daniel drawled. “On this very special episode of Sesame Street, Johnny Lawrence learns an emotion.” There was no heat to his words, though, and he looked…

Well, kind of pleased, actually.

Johnny scooted in closer.

“I’m gonna let that go,” he said magnanimously, “but only because I love you.” 

Daniel ducked his head, but it did nothing to hide the burgeoning eye crinkle that Johnny knew. Loved.

Just right now, in this moment, Johnny thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to learn softness after all.

“Hey,” Johnny said quietly, nudging Daniel’s face up with a finger under his chin. “What...what do you think about that?”

He stared up at Johnny, eyes wide, flecked with amber in the morning light. 

“I’m a little surprised,” Daniel admitted. “But happy. I guess I just don’t totally get what changed your mind about all of this.”

“Well, you did, you little twerp,” Johnny said fondly, leaning in. Daniel shifted to sit along his side, tentatively dropping his dark head to rest against Johnny’s solid shoulder. “You made me think about it. And I got some good advice. And,” he hesitated, “you’re not gonna like this, but...seeing Ali again helped.” 

He loosely grabbed Daniel’s wrist - _soft, remember soft_ \- as he went rigid and started trying to shift away. “Come on, Daniel. I told you - I don’t want her. I’m sitting on a floor with you, so can you just gimme a minute and let me explain? Please?” 

It was a long second before Johnny saw Daniel nod and felt him relax fractionally back into his body. Okay.

“Ali was the first girl - the first person,” he corrected, “that I ever really loved, besides, like, my mom. And I couldn’t let go of that for a pretty long time.” Johnny rolled his eyes and ignored the mumbled “no shit” muffled by his shirt. “And I’m sorry about what you saw yesterday. That’s not how I thought that was gonna go, and I hate that it hurt you. But part of me is kinda...happy it happened?”

Daniel yanked his head up, indignant.

“Okay, man -” Johnny cut him off by grabbing his face gently but firmly between his two hands, holding it with intent.

“I’m happy, because it helped me figure out once and for all that I was hanging on to nothing. Not just her, but this whole...like, idea of her, I guess. I don’t want the same things anymore.”

Daniel’s eyes searched his face, anger forgotten. 

“You want...me?” He asked, still disbelieving. Johnny tweaked his ear.

“Yeah, you, you nerd. How many times do I have to say it?” Daniel frowned at him, but it was toothless.

“As many times as it takes for you to say it without laughing or insulting me,” he sniped.

Johnny laughed, tucking some of Daniel’s hair back toward his ear.

“Fair enough.” He paused, and looked at the other boy, deadly serious. “I love you, Daniel. I wanna be with you. For real. And I’m flying by the seat of my pants on this one, but I really wanna give it a shot anyway.”

He was rewarded with a bright, unreserved smile.

“Yeah?” Johnny pinched his side, hard. “Ow! Okay, okay, sorry! I believe you.” He didn’t stop beaming, and if Johnny hadn’t been a goner before he would be, now. “But - me too. I - I love you, too.”

Warmth bloomed in Johnny’s chest, and he wondered if this was what real happiness felt like. 

He knew this was the easy part - even though it hadn’t felt that way - and that they were in for a lot of shit they hadn’t even considered yet. But right now, in this warm kitchen, with the radio playing and Daniel just within his grasp, he didn’t care. Let them worry about that another day. 

“Alright, enough of this mushy crap,” Johnny pronounced. “I’m starving, and I smell bacon.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a sec!” Daniel protested. “You can’t just leave it like that.” He pushed onto his knees, giving him a couple inches on the other boy. “You said you loved me. You gotta seal the deal.”

Johnny raised his eyebrow.

“Shake on it?” He suggested, purposely obtuse. In retaliation, Daniel blew hot air in his face. 

“Dickhead.” Then he leaned in and pressed their lips together, sweet and firm and certain. Johnny immediately melted into it, wrapping his arms around Daniel and yanking him down into his lap. 

The solid press of their lips and bodies stoked a slow burning fire that had Johnny thinking maybe they could put off breakfast just a bit longer. But just as he was starting to get on board with the idea of dragging Daniel down onto the tile floor and taking this to the next level, both of their stomachs growled in sync. 

Daniel was unable to keep his composure, chuckling into the kiss at the gurgling, mood broken. He slipped off Johnny’s lap and crawled to his feet, dodging Johnny’s grabby hands and ignoring his pout as he surveyed the shambles of the stove. 

“The eggs are a lost cause, but the bacon’s fine,” he assessed. “There’s, uh, cold toast, too.”

He squeaked with surprise as Johnny rose up behind him and yanked him up against his chest, nuzzling under the collar of the flannel to drag hot, wet kisses all up and down Daniel’s neck and shoulders.

“Forget the bacon,” he rumbled as Daniel sucked in a breath and tilted his head to the side to give Johnny better access. “I no longer give a fuck about the bacon.” He slipped his hand under Daniel’s shirt and spread his fingers wide and possessive across his hips, teasing the soft skin beneath the waistband of his shorts. 

The tight, high noise Daniel made as Johnny started nibbling on his ear sent a rush of blood straight to Johnny’s hardening cock. To ease the growing pressure, he pushed his hips slow and steady into the soft swell of the other boy’s ass.

“Oh,” Daniel whimpered softly, dropping his head back, arching and meeting Johnny thrust for thrust.

“Fuck,” Johnny exhaled into the olive silk of the other boy’s skin, a dark, primal thrill racing through his body as they moved together. It was dizzying to realize that now, they could go as far as they wanted. There was no invisible line in the sand. Just them. 

Johnny tilted Daniel’s head to the side to plunder his warm, wet mouth. At the same time, he brought his free hand up to tweak one tight nipple, swallowing Daniel’s broken moan as his hips bucked back helplessly, greedy for the hard, blunt pressure of Johnny’s cock. 

Impatient with the angle, Daniel twisted around, dragging Johnny’s head down to claim his mouth, fingers tugging up at the bottom of the blonde’s t-shirt. Johnny helped him yank it off, and his stomach flipped at the hunger in Daniel’s brown eyes - nearly black with desire now - as they traced over his form. He took a shaky, steadying inhale when Daniel raked clever fingers down his bare chest and abs - pausing to apologetically caress the blooming bruise under his ribcage - before stroking firmly at his erection.

Johnny’s mind blanked out and his hips jerked up, breath stuttering erratically, instinctually following the throbbing pull of pleasure as Daniel worked his cock through his boxers.

Gathering his wits, Johnny backed them both up against the counter, hoisting Daniel up and nudging his way in between his spread legs, eyeing the long, hard line of his arousal. Johnny took a long moment to look at him - panting, dark hair ruffled beyond salvage, eyelids heavy with want, shirt falling off one lean, kiss-mottled shoulder - then licked his lips.

“What do you want, Daniel?” Johnny asked. “I’ll do anything you want.” He hesitated. “If you want.”

Slowly, deliberately, Daniel fisted one hand in his hair and pulled his head to the side, humming and leaning down to nip at his neck. It felt so good that Johnny had to brace his hands against the edge of the counter, knees turning to water.

“I want you,” Daniel finally whispered, lips brushing hot and damp over the shell of Johnny’s ear, “to fuck me.” 

Johnny groaned and gathered him tight.

“God, yes,” he affirmed. “Fuck. Yes.” He turned to catch the other boy’s lips again, kissing him slow and deep with everything he didn’t know exactly how to say until they were both flushed and airless.

When they finally separated, gasping, Daniel slid down from the counter to land on shaky legs. He grabbed one of Johnny’s hands, tangling their fingers. 

“Come on,” he entreated, voice gone husky. As if in a trance, Johnny followed along behind him down into his bedroom.

Inside, Johnny stopped to take stock. As much time as he’d spent at this house, he’d never seen the inside of Daniel’s room before. It was as homey as the rest of the house, all wood paneling and big windows, and the neat clutter of it looked like Daniel - walls papered over with photos, shelves scattered with knick knacks. The bed was tucked away against the wall, tidy and...narrow.

“Are you...sure we’re gonna fit on that thing?” Johnny asked skeptically. He’d seen bigger couches.

Undeterred, Daniel smiled at him, biting his lip and winding his arms around Johnny’s neck. 

“Might be tight. We’ll just have to get real close, yeah?”

Johnny sighed, ducking his head.

“You gotta work on your come-ons,” he muttered into Daniel’s jaw, pushing them both back onto the mattress. Daniel went easily, letting the muscled weight of Johnny’s body press him firmly down.

“Why, when you’re basically a sure thing?” He huffed, hitching his slim legs up high to bracket Johnny’s waist.

Well, fair enough. 

“This close enough?” Johnny asked hoarsely, shivering at the hot scratch of fingernails down his back and around his ass. Slowly, he unbuttoned Daniel’s shirt, methodically tasting each piece of newly exposed skin before pulling one peaked nipple deeply into his mouth, dragging a surprised, filthy little moan from Daniel’s throat that had Johnny panting.

Aching with need, he grunted and ground his hips down, fucking hard into the mattress once, twice, three times before forcing himself to stop. They needed to get a move on if he had any hope of lasting more than five seconds once he’d gotten his cock inside Daniel for real.

Daniel seemed to be on the same page, shoving Johnny’s boxers down his legs with his feet, fumbling in the drawer under his bed for the lube and a condom. Both slipped through his slack fingers into the rumpled sheets when Johnny switched to teething at the other nipple. 

“F-fuck,” he breathed, body tense and trembling with want. Johnny could feel how hard his dick was from where it was rubbing wet through his boxers against Johnny’s bare abs, and he wished he could get his mouth on it. Maybe later; there was no way either of them had the endurance for that right now.

Besides, he was more concerned about addressing the fact that Daniel was somehow still clothed.

Johnny sat back on his heels and carefully pushed the shirt away from Daniel’s body.Then he paused, considering. Confused, Daniel raised himself up to help shuck it all the way off but Johnny pushed him back into the mattress with one hand

“No,” he said in a low voice, full of dark promise, stroking down Daniel’s chest and belly to curl his fingers into the waistband of his shorts. “I think I want that to stay on.” 

He watched Daniel swallow and nod, eyes tracking Johnny’s hands as the blonde boy slid his shorts down and off his legs, tossing them to the floor. Laid out like this, miles of tan skin covered by nothing but Johnny’s shirt, with his swollen, leaking cock bobbing against his stomach, he looked like a wet dream come to life. 

Wordlessly, Daniel tossed him the lube, cheeks pinking at the obscene snap of the cap when Johnny opened it and generously slicked up his fingers, shuffling up the bed to kneel over him.

“Show me how you want me,” he said, looking down at Daniel, whose blush darkened. Without breaking eye contact with Johnny, he reached behind himself and grabbed a pillow, propping it under his hips.

“I want to see you,” he said, a slight quiver in his voice, a little embarrassed but not ashamed. Johnny leaned down to kiss him then, a brief, tender taste, pushing his clean hand through his hair.

“Yeah,” the blonde agreed. “Me too.” He claimed his mouth again, pushing his tongue past Daniel’s lips. At the same time, he reached down to stroke gently at the rim of the other boy’s entrance, giving him a second to remember the feeling before sinking one digit in. 

Daniel groaned into Johnny’s mouth, eyelashes fluttering, limbs going purposefully loose as he forced himself to relax into the penetration. Johnny had to close his eyes for a moment to regain control over himself, cock throbbing insistently at the tight grip of warm muscle contracting around his finger. 

He slid in a second digit not long after, and as Johnny crooked them just right, Daniel cried out for real, hips curving sharply up and heels digging into the mattress. Johnny smoothed a soothing hand up and down his side, mumbling incoherent praise into his sweaty skin, thoroughly and carefully stretching him. He’d been rougher than this before, but it had been a few weeks, and he’d be damned if this first time wasn’t as fucking perfect as it could possibly be.

As he twisted in a third finger and started fucking him open in earnest, Johnny used his free hand to stroke loosely up Daniel’s dick, teasing gently at the head with his thumb, dragging a long, throaty moan out of the other boy. After, he attended to his own neglected cock, giving himself a few long, slippery pulls to take the edge off, eyes nearly crossing at how good it felt.

“Fuck, Daniel,” he panted. “Do you even know what you look like right now? You are so fucking hot.”

“Jesus, so are you,” Daniel choked out, legs splayed, riding Johnny’s fingers hard, white-knuckling the sheets. “Please,” he begged. “Please, I need - _fuck_ \- I need you.” Johnny shuddered.

“Okay. Okay, baby.” He sat back on his heels, and Daniel whined in protest as he withdrew his fingers with a filthy squelch. After a few moments of rooting around for the condom, he rolled it on, slicked himself up, and then sat still. Impatient, Daniel lifted his dark head, breathing hard. 

“Do you need me to engrave you an invitation?” he ground out.

“I think I’ve changed my mind,” Johnny said slowly, voice gravelly with arousal, sitting back fully. Daniel rocketed upright, furious. 

“Are you fucking - "

“Seems to me I’m the one doing all the heavy lifting here,” Johnny interrupted him, tapping his chin. “Think it might be time for you to work for it a little.” He could see Daniel mouthing the words to himself silently, confused, and Johnny leaned back on his arms, cock jerking up with interest. “Hop on, cowboy.” 

Daniel’s dark eyes widened as he put the pieces together, and his blush spread down to the middle of his chest. Still, he didn’t look opposed to the invitation, and he only hesitated a second before shuffling over on his hands and knees to straddle Johnny’s hips.

“You sure?” he asked, uncertain. “I don’t...I’ve never done this part before.” He played with a curl of sweaty blonde hair near Johnny’s temple, stroking his thumb down one ruddy cheekbone. Johnny leaned into it for a minute, closing his eyes and turning his head to nip at the digit. “I want it to be good.” 

Johnny sat up taller, bracing Daniel with two hands on his back as he shifted. The motion nudged their cocks together, and they both gasped.

“Daniel,” the blonde grunted, fighting the urge to grind up and into oblivion. “With you, there’s no way it could be bad.” He pushed his shirt down Daniel’s arms and into the crooks of his elbows, rubbing his face into the overheated tan curve of the other boy’s neck. “Besides, I’ve never done it like this either. But I’m really fucking ready to try.”

Daniel, usually so verbose, only nodded silently in response, bringing one hand up to anchor in the damp strands of Johnny’s hair, bracing the other on his shoulder to lift up. Johnny nearly stopped breathing as he shifted his dick into alignment, tip catching at Daniel’s tight hole as he started bearing down, down, down. 

Heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears, he lifted his head back up to watch Daniel’s face as he took Johnny’s cock for the first time. He wasn’t disappointed - he looked up just in time to see his big brown eyes blow wide, kiss-bruised mouth dropping in a silent “oh” as he pressed into the thick pressure. It took a few fraught seconds, but all at once Johnny felt Daniel’s body _give_ , the head of Johnny’s dick popping past the first ring of resistance and slipping into slick, tight heat.

“Oh,” Daniel whispered as he sank into the intense stretch. He hooked an arm around Johnny’s neck, breath going shallow and out of sync. “Oh, god, oh fuck. It’s too...I can’t...” 

His thighs were trembling and tense, spread wide around Johnny’s hips, and Johnny slid his hands down to better support his weight.

“It’s okay,” Johnny muttered, lips pressed against the other boy’s jaw, hot all over and hanging on by a thread. “It’s okay. You’re doing so good.”

After a long moment, Daniel exhaled and started rocking his hips down again, inch by torturous inch, choking out a broken moan as he worked himself fully onto Johnny’s cock. Overwhelmed, every nerve ending on fire, he buried his face in Johnny’s hair.

“Wow,” he huffed, ruffling the silky strands. “Oh...wow.” His voice cracked, hips twitching minutely as he adjusted to the fullness. “Johnny, I can’t...this is…” He arched and raked desperately up and down the back of Johnny’s neck and shoulders. “Please do not make a joke about your dick right now.”

Johnny couldn’t, not even if he tried. The moment he’d realized his cock had been swallowed by Daniel’s tight little body, all his focus went toward staving off the hot, heavy swelling in his gut that precluded orgasm. It was like his first time having sex all over again. He counted backwards, recited as many state capitals as he could remember (not many), and finally had to resort to picturing Mr. Miyagi dressed in nothing but his hachimaki. 

Crisis averted, but that was working a bit too well, so he turned his attention back to the beautiful boy currently _sitting on his cock_.

“Jesus, Daniel,” he groaned. “You really thought this might not be good for me?”

Daniel laughed, then sucked in air as the vibrations whipped up his spine in a straight, zinging line.

“I - I worry,” he bit out, before Johnny tilted his head up to delve into Daniel’s mouth with his tongue. Experimentally, Daniel lifted his hips and ground down again, breaking the kiss to throw his head back at the sensation. “God, that’s just....”

He set a tentative pace, testing the waters, circling his hips to find that spot inside that could set him on fire, and for a few long minutes it was all Johnny could do to get through it. Finally, he pulled his shit together enough to sear a trail of kisses down Daniel’s neck, licking at the salty dip in his throat and the long line of his collarbone before working further down. Johnny stared up at Daniel through his eyelashes, took in how the other boy had closed his eyes, blissed out, riding him languidly. Then, he bit down gently on one taut, abused nipple.

Eyes flying open, Daniel’s back curved like a bow, and - _there_. He shuddered as Johnny’s cock nailed his prostate, and then again and again as Johnny leveraged every single core muscle he had to try to repeat that firm, perfect upstroke until Daniel was clenched around him, crying out with every hard thrust into his body. 

It was a little exhausting after awhile, though, and the angle wasn’t quite good enough for Johnny to keep fucking him like this and get them both over the finish line. So, without much - or any - warning, he looped an arm around Daniel’s back and pitched forward, knocking them both down to the mattress.

Daniel landed with a surprised “ _oof_ ” onto his back, limbs akimbo, huffing with annoyance as Johnny’s dick slipped out of him. Johnny caught himself just in time, before he landed atop the other boy, and he found himself nose to nose with Daniel, who looked as amused as he did aroused.

“Somehow not thinking that went how you thought it would,” he ventured. Wordlessly, Johnny shoved a pillow under his hips and grabbed one of Daniel’s hands, pinning it above his head and lacing their fingers together.

“Wrong,” Johnny finally replied in a low, rough voice, shouldering one of Daniel’s slender legs up to sink back inside him, enjoying the easy, warm drag of his walls against his cock. Now, he could use his knees for leverage, and just as Daniel was catching his breath from that first lazy shock of pleasure, Johnny pumped his hips out and slammed back in again. 

“Fuck!” Daniel practically sobbed, body arching and writhing around the thick, hot cock inside him, filling him just right, over and over again. His chest was flushed and heaving, nipples tight and bruised red, just begging for Johnny’s mouth again, and Johnny wished he had more lips and tongues and hands so he could do everything he wanted to him.

But he didn’t, and besides he was so damn close to coming he could taste it. So what he was gonna do was fuck him, hard and steady, succumbing to the liquid heat that spread from his groin to every part of his body, threatening to incinerate him alive. And he’d let it, he’d let it burn him to dust, it was so fucking good.

Daniel was making these low, keening sounds now, noises that seemed like they wanted to be words but couldn’t quite get there, and they were going straight to Johnny’s dick. Goddamn, he was pretty like this - wanton and disheveled, wiry legs wrapped high and tight around Johnny’s back, slipping from the sweat of their bodies, toes curling into Johnny’s ass with each long, deep stroke. 

They were both right on the edge, and Johnny could feel his cock painfully hard and pulsing in between them. 

“Please,” Daniel finally begged, wrecked, “please, I can’t…I need...” He slammed his free hand above his head, rooting himself in place to push up harder into every sharp thrust.

“I know what you need,” Johnny bit out harshly. He kissed him again, licking hard and sloppy into his mouth. He reached down to fist his leaking dick, and he’d barely gotten fingers wrapped around it before Daniel was convulsing violently, coming hard all over Johnny’s hand with a guttural, shattered groan that Johnny had never heard before. 

The sudden, molten clamp of Daniel’s ass yanked Johnny headlong into his own climax. He shouted and ground down hard into the other boy, riding the intense, white hot burst of pleasure, vision blurring with sweat and emotion as he collapsed into the clutch of Daniel’s arms. He bit down into his shoulder, fucking mindlessly through the relentless waves of his orgasm, one after another.

Finally, they both slumped down, still tangled up in each other, trembling and gasping like they’d just done wind sprints. Daniel nudged his sweaty forehead against Johnny’s.

“Holy shit,” he said tremulously. “That was…” His hips twitched with an aftershock, and he whined a little, hypersensitive. Johnny gently pressed his lips to the spot where he’d bitten - that was sure to be a pretty nasty bruise later, oops - and rubbed an apologetic hand to his thigh before pulling out as carefully as he could, wincing at Daniel’s discomfited grunt. He discarded the condom and settled in snug against the other boy’s side, unable and very unwilling to move too far away.

“Yeah,” he replied, raspy and low, once his voice returned. “Wow.”

Sweet and pliant, Daniel turned his head for a sensuous, lazy kiss, the places where their skin met tingling and buzzing in the comedown. After they separated, he sighed and nuzzled Johnny’s nose, unbearably tender in a way he’d never tried to be before. 

“Seven out of ten,” Daniel finally whispered, eyes closed but smiling slyly. Johnny couldn’t help but laugh, exhausted.

“Fuck you, that was at least an eight and a half,” he slurred into the pillow. Daniel snorted.

“You _did_ fuck me,” he cackled, riding the giddy high of good sex. He rolled to face Johnny fully, nose to nose.

“Johnny,” he whispered urgently. Johnny made a garbled noise into the bedding but no effort to lift his head. “Johnny, wake up!” Poke.

God, give the kid one orgasm and he was like a fucking live wire sometimes. Johnny reluctantly roused himself from his half asleep state to look at him, and Daniel was looking right back, a whole universe of want and affection and careful joy in his shining eyes.

“Johnny, are we actually doing this?” Each word was fragile, like it could shatter if he said it too loudly. Dammit. 

Johnny kissed his shoulder and buried his face in the space between Daniel’s ear and neck. 

“Yeah. Yeah we are,” he whispered back, low and fierce. 

Daniel wrapped his arms around him, then, tight and sure and warm.

“Okay. Okay,” he smiled into his hair.

Johnny realized he was shaking. He wasn’t sure when that had started. 

“I love you,” he muttered fervently into Daniel’s sticky skin. “Fuck. I love you so much. It’s so fucking stupid. I should’ve told you before today. M’sorry I didn’t tell you before today.”

Daniel shushed him, digging his fingers into the blonde strands at the crown of his head as he pulled him in closer, rolling them back so that they were tucked together on his tiny little bed.

“It’s okay,” he said gently. “It’s okay, Johnny. I love you. It’s okay.” He rubbed Johnny’s back soothingly, and Johnny melted into the feeling of being cared for and comforted, of being loved. “Jeez, you big crybaby.” Johnny would’ve been irritated at the audible grin in Daniel’s voice, but for the fact that he was sounding a teensy bit choked up himself, the hypocrite.

Seized by disgusting sentimentality, he shifted down to press a kiss against the skin of Daniel’s chest. Then, lulled by firm, gentle hands in his hair and on his back, he relaxed his head down and let himself drift away with the soothing, rhythmic thump of Daniel’s strong heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the alt title for this chapter was "send in the smut (clowns)", but on second look it was a little unsexy. unless that's your thing. no shaming here.
> 
> i also think i should clarify - i do not believe that penetrative sex is the only sex that counts. it does not. for the purposes of this fic, it does serve as a significant demarcation point in their relationship. however, these dumbasses have been having real sex with real feelings the whole-ass time. 
> 
> also, obligatory reminder that this lil ride ain't over yet, so pls keep your arms and legs inside the ride until we've come to a complete stop!
> 
> y'all can find me on tumblr [here](https://lessonforwholelife.tumblr.com/)


	8. it's gonna be me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: some homophobic language; some nonserious references to self-harm; 8k words of boring, OOC talking it out like well-adjusted humans sometimes do; possible errant typos (since i discovered many in the last chapter and wanted to sink below the earth's crust)

It was only mid-morning, and Johnny could tell it was going to be a scorcher based on how sticky and humid it already was in Daniel’s bedroom.

Johnny could still hear the faint sound of the radio playing from the kitchen, and he knew that eventually they’d have to think about getting up again - but not yet. Not yet. Not when his limbs were still loose like fresh jello, warm and unstable.

He was scrunched on the small bed around Daniel’s tiny furnace of a body, head lolling against the damp, bare skin over his sternum, lulled by the soft drag of fingers stroking through his hair. It was nice, laying like this. Before, they might’ve sometimes shared a lingering caress or two in the rosy afterglow of orgasm, but they’d always self-consciously cut it short before it could go any further.

Johnny wasn’t too embarrassed to admit that he liked it better this way. On pain of death, he’d never confess this out loud, but he was kind of a closet cuddler. When he and his mom were younger and still dirt poor, they’d always had to share a bed in the crappy little one-bedroom apartments they could barely afford. That changed after she met and married Sid, but still, Johnny had sometimes missed the closeness and would make up reasons to sleep next to her.

His stepfather had put a swift, humiliating end to that practice.

Ali had ribbed him about it too, the way he’d find reasons to shove his head in her lap or curl around her like an overgrown cat. She’d thought it was endearing at first, but as time went on and their relationship disintegrated, it had become stifling to her - less about affection and more about ownership.

Johnny supposed she might’ve been a little bit right. He _was_ possessive sometimes, closely guarding the things that meant the most to him. He was also slow to let go - even when, in Ali’s case, she’d been begging to be set free.

Some distant day down the road, would Daniel beg him to let him go, too? Johnny hoped not. He was almost certainly a better person than he’d been two years ago, and he knew he’d have no choice but to step back if Daniel ever did decide that he no longer wanted Johnny in his orbit. But knowing and doing were two very different things - and right now, even the thought of letting this boy go had him unconsciously curling tighter around him.

A gentle tug on his hair had Johnny angling his head up, startled. Daniel blinked owlishly down at him, brown eyes fairly sparkling with amusement.

“Something you wanna share with the class, Mr. Lawrence?” he asked lightly. “They’re gonna have to use the jaws of life to pry you off if you’re not careful.”

Johnny flushed.

“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, immediately relaxing his grip. Another tug on his head had him pulling up eye level with Daniel - and wow, he definitely did not hate the new fearlessness with which Daniel was approaching this version of manhandling.

“Hey,” Daniel’s voice was deliberately light. “I don’t mind. At all. Just thought you might need a penny for your thoughts.” A pause. “I know how hard it can be for you sometimes - thinking, that is.” He screeched as Johnny wordlessly retaliated with a huge raspberry to the side of his neck. “Stop, that tickles man!”

Hissing with laughter, Daniel pawed at Johnny to get off and after some delay, the blonde boy obliged, rolling to his side and propping his head in one hand.

Daniel shifted over to face him. Tentatively, he lifted his hand to Johnny’s face, passing gentle fingers down his hairline and brow bone before tapping them softly against his temple.

“What’s goin’ on in there?” he whispered. Johnny wanted to answer, but he couldn’t help it - it’d been too long since he’d kissed Daniel, so first he leaned down to gently capture his lips, bruised and reddened from their earlier exertions. He kept his eyes closed for several moments after it ended, savoring Daniel’s unique flavor.

“It’s not so important,” Johnny murmured after a brief, expectant silence. “I was just thinking - don’t make fun - that we’ve never really done this part before.”

Daniel didn’t even crack a smile.

“Did you want to?” he asked, stroking his fingers up and down with aching tenderness. “Before?” Johnny hesitated, then nodded, a brief, sharp dip of his head.

“C’mere, then.” As he spoke, Daniel moved in, wrapping his arms around Johnny’s torso, just under his arms, nudging his head into the arc between his collarbone and chin. Almost immediately, Johnny hooked his own arms around whatever parts of Daniel he could reach.

He sighed, a lengthy, satisfying exhale as something tight and clenched and hard within himself unspooled. The room was getting stifling - certainly too hot to be laying like this, pressed so tightly, skin-to-skin. They’d both be drowning in a pool of their own sweat soon.

Just another minute.

*****

At last, they did have to get up, if only because the hunger they’d hit pause on to satisfy a different kind of hunger had come roaring back in full force.

“Goddamn, I could eat a horse right now,” Johnny groaned, nose pressed into Daniel’s hair as they shuffled into the kitchen, a half-clothed, eight-limbed hybrid being.

“Hey man, you were the one who couldn’t wait,” Daniel scoffed, albeit a bit smugly. He grunted in protest as Johnny grabbed his ass harder than was strictly necessary. “Easy on the goods there, that’s tender!”

“Didn’t see you complaining earlier,” Johnny mumbled, disentangling himself from the other boy and dropping a kiss to his head before flopping down next to Mr. Miyagi’s low little table. Daniel gave him the finger as made his way to the stove - definitely hobbling just a tiny bit, Johnny noted with guilty satisfaction. “Classy,” he mumbled in response to the gesture.

“I’ll show you class, buddy,” Daniel retorted, surveying the semi-wrecked remains of breakfast. He held up an undercooked strip of bacon and made a face, tossing it at Johnny. “Bon appetit.” Johnny made a face, dodging as the soggy meat sailed through the air where his face had been just milliseconds before.

“Gross, LaRusso.”

“I thought you _liked_ taking meat to the face,” Daniel cackled to himself as he rummaged through the fridge, coming up with butter and a pack of cheese. Johnny gaped.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Daniel shut the fridge with his hip, shrugging and snatching the bread as he returned to the stove.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he said without thinking, then paused, realizing the many different implications of his words. Johnny looked down awkwardly, and Daniel cleared his throat. “Um, grilled cheese alright? We don’t have a ton here right now. Mr. Miyagi usually does a lotta fishing.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Johnny surveyed the place warily. “Speaking of, when’s he coming back?” He didn’t much care to have the old man stumble upon a scene the likes of which he would have walked in on earlier, whether he was aware of what they’d been doing or not.

There was a short list of things the man didn’t know, and the size and exact white shade of Johnny’s bare ass should, God willing, stay on it.

“Not until tomorrow morning,” Daniel said, toasting up the sandwiches. “I gotta run up to the shop later today to take care of some of the bonsai, but we’re closed ‘til Monday for restocking, since _someone_ keeps sending clients our way.”

His words were pointed but his tone was pleased - it was gratifying to see all their efforts bear some fruit.

“Yeah yeah, you’re welcome.” Johnny leaned back, stomach rumbling at the warm, rich scent of frying butter. Speaking of trees...he sat straight up. “Shit! What time is it?”

Daniel squinted at the small clock on the wall next to the stove.

“Uhhh, just about noon.”

Dammit. Johnny was due into work at two. He’d have to leave soon if he wanted to have time to drive home, change, and get to the office to pull his assignments.

Johnny looked back at Daniel, humming and tipping sandwiches and bacon onto plates, and his stomach twisted. He knew he’d have to at some point, but the thought of leaving now - now, when they’d figured out what they were to each other, how much they were to each other - seemed pretty unbearable.

While he was thinking it over, a plate slid in front of him.

“Here you go. Reheated bacon and the finest fresh-ish bread with cheese that money can buy. Encino Oaks, eat your heart out.” Daniel was already talking through a mouthful, and Johnny grimaced at him.

“The waitstaff could use an upgrade. Say it, don’t spray it LaRusso.” This time, he failed to dodge the oven mitt pitched with perfect precision at his head.

Ugh. This was the nerd he was skipping out on a paycheck for? He observed as Daniel flipped the kitchen towel over his shoulder with a flick of the wrist before executing a perfect little twirl to the Prince song playing in the background, and suppressed a grin with all of his might.

“Hey, where’s the phone around here?” Johnny asked, making his decision. “I need to make a call.”

“Other room.” Daniel nodded in vaguely the right direction, and Johnny heaved himself to his feet with only a brief longing glance back at his food.

His boss did sound kinda pissed that Johnny was calling off, but he was generally a pretty reasonable guy. Once Johnny launched into a graphic fib about what the takeout he’d had the night before was doing to his digestive tract, he’d relented pretty quickly, with the stipulation that Johnny might have to work some extra hours in the future to make up the difference.

That was fine; that was Future Johnny’s problem. And that guy would go into it thanking Present Day Johnny for the fond memories he’d have of getting laid. Hopefully more than once.

He slouched back over to the table. Daniel had already finished his sandwich and was munching on a piece of leftover bacon. Johnny grimaced.

“Jesus, Daniel, did you even chew?” Daniel smiled guilelessly at him.

“I’m a growing boy.”

“I’d like to know where you’re growing, since it’s not out and it’s definitely not up.” Instead of settling back in across the table, Johnny slotted himself in next to the other boy, crowding into his space and dragging his own plate over.

“You’ll make a fine housewife someday, Danielle,” he proclaimed, taking a large bite of his sandwich and studiously ignoring the enormous stink eye that swung his way. “Too bad you don’t still have that apron.”

“Eat shit.”

Johnny ended up polishing his own food off in record time (a man grew weary of living off lunchmeat and frozen dinners alone). When he was done, he hummed contentedly, leaning down to drop a sweet - albeit a smidge greasy - thank you peck to the corner of Daniel’s mouth.

“My compliments to the chef,” he said against the stubbly skin there, voice low, teasing voice. He felt Daniel’s mouth stretch wide in a grin.

“I slaved over a hot stove,” he said, turning his head for another kiss, longer and warmer.

Johnny sighed into it, parting his lips to let Daniel’s tongue slip past and tangle with his own, already congratulating himself for calling off. He twisted his body toward the other boy, grabbing at his hips to hoist him closer.

With a hiss and a wince, Daniel abruptly cut off the kiss.

“Sorry,” he said ruefully at Johnny’s nonplussed glance. “I wasn’t lying earlier.” He looked down, red tinting his cheeks, sheepish. “I am kinda sore.”

Oh. _Oh._

Well, that was probably to be expected (and again, Johnny pushed down that small swell of guilty satisfaction). No matter. There were plenty of other things they could do, if they wanted. And Johnny most definitely wanted.

But Daniel seemed a little anxious.

“I’m not saying I don’t want to, I just - ” Johnny cut him off by pinching his lips shut, and he stifled a snort at Daniel’s cross-eyed indignation.

“Daniel. Relax. I’m not gonna let you hurt yourself just so we can get our rocks off. Besides,” he leered, letting the other boy’s mouth go, “it’s not like we had any problems before.”

Daniel bit his lip and smiled.

“I guess you’re right.”

Say what? Johnny tilted his head forward, squinting and cupping one ear.

“You wanna repeat that for the jury, counselor?”

Daniel rolled his eyes.

“You heard me, wise guy. You need me to hire a skywriter to spell it out for the whole Valley?”

“Now that’s an idea,” Johnny mused, grabbing one of Daniel’s hands and pressing the tanned fingers to his lips. He stroked his thumb across the silky inside skin of his wrist, kissing a thorough, languid path up to his knuckles.

However, he stopped short when the smooth skin under his lips mottled into rougher scar tissue, concentrated around Daniel’s first and second knuckles. The silver webbing was nearly invisible to the eye, but unmistakable to the touch. Johnny’d never noticed that before.

“Hey, what’d you do to yourself here?” he asked, curious, pulling back to examine the marks more closely.

He was stunned when Daniel jerked his hand back, pressing it in a tight fist to his stomach.

“Nothing,” he replied too quickly. “Just a couple of punches that didn’t land right. No big deal.” His eyes darted away, and not for the first time, Johnny marveled at what an absolutely terrible liar Daniel was.

He was getting that feeling again - that vague, prickling suspicion that he’d felt last night and countless other times over the past few months, whenever Daniel had an odd reaction, or said something weird and vague, or shared intense, wordless glances with Mr. Miyagi.

In the months since they’d begun sparring (and otherwise), it seemed like those occasions were becoming fewer and farther between, though they’d still crop up from time to time, like a stubborn weed in an otherwise perfect lawn. And each time, the same burning curiosity that Johnny had felt the night of last year’s All Valley would flare up, niggling in the back of his mind.

But he’d never said anything - hadn’t known if he should, if he had the right to. Now, though, things were different. Now, Johnny had a real stake in this, and if he had his way, Daniel would loosen his hold on whatever it was he was gripping so tightly.

“Okay,” Johnny said slowly, considering. “That...must’ve been something. I’ve landed some pretty shitty jabs in my day, but I’ve never taken damage like that.”

“Oh, excuse me, it hasn’t happened to King Karate so it can’t happen to anyone else, is that right?” Daniel scrambled up, snapping and backing away like a cornered dog. Jerkily, he started clearing dishes, tossing them into the sink with little finesse or care.

“Hey!” Johnny tried not to get pissed. “What the hell’s that about? That wasn’t what I was saying, okay?”

“No? ‘Cause it sure sounded like you were callin’ me a liar.”

The fuck?

“I wasn’t calling you shit!” Against his will, Johnny was starting to get frustrated. “But now you mention it, I think I know enough about karate to know you don’t get scars like that by accident!”

“Alright then, if you’re so smart why don’t you tell me where I got’em and we call it a day,” Daniel bit out, scrubbing at one of the pans under a steaming stream of water.

“Because I want you to trust me and tell me yourself!” Johnny burst out. “I mean, Christ, I’m not exactly an expert on what makes a successful relationship, but even I know you gotta talk about shit sometimes. How else are we supposed to make this work?”

Daniel snorted.

“You? You wanna talk about shit? That’s funny. Sure you wouldn’t rather just tongue it out with your ex?” He flinched at his own words, hand locked around the scrub brush, frozen under the scalding faucet.

Johnny rocked back on his heels, swallowing. Well, then.

With measured steps, he padded over to the sink and shut the water off. As if in a trance, Daniel unfurled his shaking hand, staring unseeingly at the seared skin for a moment before clenching it hard again, throwing the white web of scars into sharp relief.

“I know I messed up yesterday, but you can’t throw that in my face every time we start fighting,” Johnny finally said quietly.

Daniel pressed his lips together, glancing down. He didn’t reply, just leaned against the counter and watched the intermittent drip of water into the sink.

“Fine,” Johnny bit out after several long beats. “Fuck this.”

He briefly thought about searching for his jeans, but his overriding impulse was to put as much distance as possible between the two of them, as fast as possible. So he stormed out into the backyard, aimless, pacing back and forth. He felt like one of those caged cats at the zoo, imprisoned and bright-eyed with impotent anger.

Johnny had no real sense of how time had elapsed as he stood there, seething. Eventually, though, a voice piped up from somewhere behind him.

“I’m sorry,” it said, tiny and contrite as can be. Johnny didn’t move, afraid that if he turned toward Daniel now, he’d lose all the righteous anger he’d tightly bundled inside himself. “I lash out sometimes. I know I do,” Daniel continued. “I did it to Mr. Miyagi, too. I almost ruined our -” Here, he cut himself off, unsure how to go on. Then, after a second - “I wanna tell you,” he said, even softer than before. “But I don’t really know where to start.”

“The beginning is usually a pretty good place,” Johnny replied stiffly.

“Sure, but what’s the beginning?” Daniel asked wearily. “Is it when we moved here? When I met Ali? Or you? Or Mr. Miyagi?” His voice was thick. “I dunno. Learning karate was one of the best things that ever happened to me, but it’s also gotten me into a lotta bullshit.”

At once, Johnny felt the barest pressure at his back, gentle fingers glancing over his shirt without pushing into his skin.

“Johnny?” Came the whispered plea. “Can I…?”

Johnny nodded sharply, once, not trusting his voice.

A relieved sigh, and two strong, spindly arms wound their way around Johnny’s waist from behind, a nose burying itself in between his shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel repeated, sincere and muffled by fine, thin cotton and firm skin. “I didn’t mean what I said. I do trust you.” Silence. “But I don’t always trust myself.”

That was something. Johnny relaxed fractionally into the hold, noting how Daniel’s hands were wound rigidly at his front, how he was rubbing at his marred knuckles with his thumb. He brought his own hand up to clasp around them, halting the motion.

“What, um…what do you know about the All Valley last year?” Daniel followed up, each word formed carefully. “I know you know I won, but...is that all?”

Johnny chewed his lip, understanding he was gonna have to come clean.

“I heard...some things,” he hedged. “That Kreese had Cobra Kai competing again. That you had entered again. And...and other stuff. Not a lot, and it didn’t all make any sense, so…so I had to see for myself.” A pause. “I watched it. I saw everything,” he confessed reluctantly.

Daniel was still against his back, grip slackening, and suddenly Johnny couldn’t go another syllable of this conversation without seeing his face. He spun around without leaving the circle of his arms, and if he’d been holding onto any lingering anger, it leaked out like helium from a punctured balloon when he saw how scared Daniel seemed, head bowed and back tight.

It was too familiar. Johnny never wanted him to look like that. Not around him. Not ever again.

“So you know a lot,” Daniel said dully.

“Not everything,” Johnny swore. “Not the important stuff. But I saw the shit they pulled - it was brutal. They deserved that ban.” Daniel’s head arced up in surprise.

“Ban?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” Johnny said, confused. “Didn’t you get the letter?”

Daniel shrugged.

“Maybe. Probably. Everything I’ve gotten from them since the tournament’s gone straight into the fire,” he admitted.

“Oh.” Johnny absorbed this. “Well, Cobra Kai was banned from the tournament. Permanently. For - for what they did to you.”

Daniel didn’t seem to know what to do with that.

“Good riddance,” he muttered at last, then winced. “Sorry,” he tacked on, eyeing Johnny with apology in his dark eyes.

Johnny shook his head vehemently.

“No. Cobra Kai isn’t part of my life anymore. And that new Cobra Kai - I didn’t recognize it, not even Kreese. And definitely not that psychopath they put up against you, or that creepy fuck with the ponytail. Everything that happened, they brought it on themselves.” He hesitated. “What I don’t get is why they did it. Why’d they go after you like that?”

Daniel dropped his forehead to Johnny’s chest, silent, breathing in tandem with the steady rise and fall of his breastbone.

“Can we sit down?” he asked without lifting his face. “It’s kind of a long story.”

*****

They settled snugly across from each other on Daniel’s small mattress (Miyagi needed to consider investing in a couch or something). Daniel was hunched in on himself, like he was trying to make himself as small as possible, brittle with tension.

If it had been anyone else telling the story, Johnny wouldn’t have believed it was true - it was _that_ wild. The piecemeal information Tommy had gleaned from the grapevine didn’t even scratch the surface of what Daniel shared with him.

Dispassionately, like he was reading out of an accounting ledger, Daniel recounted how he’d received the letter of invitation from the All Valley, how he’d eventually decided not to compete in the tournament on Miyagi’s counsel. How Mike Barnes had barged his way into his life, harassing him and roughing him up until he at last agreed to fight. How it set off the slow-motion car crash of his falling out with his sensei. The way Terry Silver had lied his way into his confidence, shifting him around like a pawn in a twisted chess match from hell, convincing him to abuse his own body in the name of strength.

_A man can’t stand, he can’t fight._

_A man can’t see, he can’t fight._

_A man can’t breathe, he can’t fight._

For Johnny, it hit just a little too close to home.

And then there was the John Kreese of it all. Faking his own death. Christ.

It still caught Johnny off-guard sometimes, how Kreese could reveal himself in these new and depraved ways - and how Johnny could still be shocked by it, thrown like he was still seventeen and unflinching in his belief that his sensei’s way was the correct one. Some days, the vice grip of his arm around Johnny’s neck was nothing more than a muffled memory; others, it took a few seconds for him to remember that there was nothing there and that he could still breathe freely.

When Daniel recited how he’d gone to the Cobra Kai dojo to tell Silver he was quitting, only to walk into a three-on-one ambush, Johnny reached out reflexively to grab his hand hard. Daniel gripped back, just as tight.

“I think - ” his voice, so steady the whole time, wavered then. “I think that’s why I got so upset, last night. I knew it was messed up, but when I saw you and Ali together, my first thought was that it had all been a giant scam, just like with Silver, and Barnes, and Kreese. That I had set myself up for another humiliation. I didn’t stop to think that you wouldn’t do that to me, not anymore. I just panicked. I’m sorry.”

“Daniel,” Johnny said hoarsely. “You don’t need to apologize for that.”

There was a dark, ugly force rising within him. He was still holding Daniel’s hand tightly, and in many ways it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. The only thing keeping him from leaving this house, from getting in his car and tracking down Kreese and Silver and showing them what real pain looked like. For everything they’d done to Daniel, to him, to every other kid who stepped haplessly into that gaping maw just trying to find a place to belong.

_Now the real pain begins._

Daniel seemed unconvinced, but let it go.

“Anyway, after that is when Mr. Miyagi agreed to train me for the tournament,” he continued. “And the rest...well, you know the rest, I guess. You saw it all in living color. It wasn’t like I won some great victory. Barnes screwed around and roughed me up good for a couple minutes, and then I got my shit together long enough to get lucky.”

Johnny remembered thinking that exact same thing, all those months ago. What an idiot.

“No,” he declared, strong and sure. “You didn’t get lucky. They got arrogant. They underestimated their opponent, because they thought they’d already won - they thought they’d scared you into submission.” He smiled. “They should’ve asked me - I coulda told them it wasn’t gonna work.” He affected his best Ivan Drago accent. “He’s not human. He is like a piece of iron.”

Gratifyingly, Daniel laughed, small but true, toying with Johnny’s fingers.

“I just can’t believe I was so stupid,” he admitted. “Everything Mr. Miyagi taught me, over a year of training, down the drain, and for what? Ten minutes of glory and a shitty trophy?”

Johnny doesn’t like the self-loathing he hears in Daniel’s voice.

“I don’t think that’s why you did it, Daniel.” He thought over what he wanted to say next. Comfort had never been his forte, but he was going to try. “C’mon, I know better than anyone how far a person’ll go for someone they look up to. I let - I let Kreese rule my life for _years_. But it took you all of five seconds after suckerpunching some loser to pull yourself back from the edge.”

Daniel’s brow creased.

“It was different for you,” he argued. “You didn’t have anyone else. I had Mr. Miyagi. I should’ve known better.”

Johnny chewed his lip, thinking carefully about his next words.

“Can I say something? Even if it makes you mad?” he finally asked.

Wary, Daniel gave his face a once over before nodding again. “Your sensei says there are no bad students, only bad teachers. I’m _not_ saying he’s a bad teacher,” Johnny exclaimed, heading off the murder dawning in Daniel’s eyes. “I know he’s not. But in _that situation_ ,” he emphasized the last two words, “I think maybe he could’ve been...better.”

“That’s not true, though,” Daniel said, temper sparking. “Everything that happened was my fault! I never should’ve fallen for their games. The minute Silver made me bleed, it was on me to stop. But I didn’t. And I didn’t just let him, I did it to myself. I _asked_ for it. I thought it was helping me.”

“Daniel!” Johnny was getting exasperated now. “Look, I know you can take care of yourself, okay? But you’re a nineteen-year-old twerp who weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet. I couldn’t stop Kreese from strangling me in a parking lot and I’ve been studying karate for _years_. What were you supposed to do against three different guys like him? Duke it out over Parcheesi? Sure, maybe you should’ve been smarter about the whole thing, but if Mr. Miyagi doesn’t think he should’ve tried a little harder himself, I’ll eat my hachimaki. I mean, have you guys ever talked about this?”

Truly, the world had tilted fucking sideways if Johnny Lawrence was the one advocating for talk-it-out as an effective strategy for conflict resolution. There must’ve been something in the fucking water of this little dojo.

Daniel stared at him uncertainly.

“Kinda? Well, okay, not exactly,” he admitted. “Not in so many words. I was so embarrassed that I let it get so bad that I never tried. I apologized, but then I distracted myself with other stuff - training, fixing up the shop, visiting my ma...you.” He ducked his head. “I guess I was scared what he’d say if I asked outright. I figured if we didn’t talk about it, then maybe it could be like it never happened. And he wouldn’t have to tell me what a huge disappointment I turned out to be.”

The corners of his mouth drooped, and Johnny fully broached the distance between them to pull him in. Daniel went easily enough, burying his face in Johnny’s shoulder, breathing shallowly.

“Daniel…” Johnny wrapped his arms around him, cupping the back of his soft, dark head with one hand. “Come on, it’s gonna be fine. You’re not a disappointment.”

“Aren’t I?” Daniel croaked, holding tight to the front of Johnny’s shirt. “Silver’s training - if you could even call it that - it dug something outta me, and I don’t know how to put it away again. I’ve always been a hothead. I know that. I’ve never been too good at keeping my cool. But I’ve never - I’ve never been violent, I don’t think. Fighting was just something I had to do, it wasn’t - it wasn’t part of me. And then I met him, and it was like he just knew exactly which buttons to push, how to pull at the anger until I lost control of it. And I let it take over, and now, it’s just always there, and it scares me. I scare me.”

Johnny’s throat felt like it was closing.

“Kreese -” his voice cracked, and he coughed. “Kreese was good at that, too. He had, like, this sixth sense for weaknesses. He knew how to find them, and he knew how to use them against you until you were so mad you couldn’t see anything but the fight.”

“What a pair,” Daniel said flatly. “Guess it makes sense they were such good friends.” He sighed, spreading his arms like - _here I am_. “So. Uh. That’s my story, I guess. Pretty heroic, right?” he asked sardonically, before twisting his hands together and fidgeting. “As you can see, I’m kind of a mess.”

Johnny nudged in closer.

“Takes one to know one, I guess,” he replied ruefully, and he watched the taut line of anxiety melt from Daniel’s shoulders.

“Guess we’re quite the pair ourselves,” Daniel chuckled. “Couple of two-time All Valley Champions and we neither of us can punch our way outta a paper bag. What d’you think we oughta do next?”

Johnny eyed him very seriously.

“Well…” he pushed forward onto his hands and knees, shoving into Daniel’s space. “I’ve got a couple of ideas. No paper bags necessary.”

Daniel’s eyes widened.

“Duke it out over Parcheesi?” he suggested innocently. “Hope you don’t think I missed that little tidbit.”

“Zip it, LaRusso,” Johnny glowered. “My mom loves that game.”

“Oh yeah? I’ve always been more of a Monopoly man myself -”

Johnny rolled his eyes and yanked him in, kissing him sound and hard to cut him off. The time for talking was over.

Daniel made a surprised little sound that was swallowed into Johnny’s mouth. He fell easily into the kiss and Johnny’s lap, parting his lips eagerly. He feathered his fingers through the other boy’s pale hair, dragging his blunt nails across Johnny’s scalp.

Johnny shuddered and moaned, breath catching in his throat. He was hardening again, rutting in tiny circles against Daniel’s hip, doing his best to stop himself from pressing him down and opening him up again.

“God,” he panted, kissing a path down the column of Daniel’s neck and then back up again, noting the thready noises of pleasure coming from above him, and the hand that was creeping farther and farther up his undershirt. “Daniel, if you don’t want this to go too far - _fuck_ \- ” he grunted as the other boy worked his other hand into his boxers and started sucking at his jaw, exhibiting no significant interest in putting the brakes on “ - you gotta tell me now.”

“Don’t want to,” Daniel breathed, kissing the corner of his mouth before stealing another long, dirty draw from his lips. “Don’t want to stop. I want you. All of you.” Johnny gazed up at him, torn.

“But...what if it hurts you?” he asked, apprehensive.

“It won’t.” Daniel groaned, drawn out and husky, spreading his legs when Johnny tentatively kneaded his ass. “God, _yeah_. It’ll be okay. Just...take it slow.” He tipped his head down, bumped their foreheads together. “I trust you,” he murmured. “I know you’ll make me feel good, you’re always so good.” He got his fingers around Johnny’s cock, giving it a few firm pulls, and Johnny couldn’t be totally sure if the hard lurch in his belly was sparked by his words or his hand, hot around his dick.

“Slow,” Johnny agreed, eyes fluttering shut at the delicious burn. Slow. Yeah. He could do that.

*****

Some time later, after they’d taken the scenic route around dragging each other into tender oblivion once again, they collapsed in a sweaty heap.

“Jesus Christ,” Johnny breathed through a mouthful of Daniel’s dark hair. Daniel, boneless, merely hummed in sleepy acknowledgement, lacing their fingers languidly. He dropped a kiss under Johnny’s jaw, then tilted up to catch his lips, too, long and tender and sated.

A vigorous scrub-down with soap and water would benefit both of them immeasurably, but for now, Johnny cleaned them both up as much as possible with the sheet, too scrambled to think about making moves just yet. After, Daniel flopped over onto his stomach.

“Hmmmph,” he groaned, partially rousing from his stupor. “Gross. I need to wash this,” he said, plucking at the bedding. “Or burn it.” He rolled over again, gingerly, and immediately grimaced.

“Okay, for the record, what we just did was incredible and I regret nothing. But that’s it for me. I really am outta commission now,” he said with resignation, lazily kissing Johnny’s broad shoulder. “You finally took me down, stud.”

Johnny huffed out a laugh, head rolling back against the pillow.

“I think I took myself down with you. I can’t even think about getting up right now. Or getting it up.”

Daniel snickered, curling in closer and stroking one hand affectionately over the firm planes of Johnny’s chest and stomach. Slack and sleepy, Johnny tracked it, hypnotized by the back and forth.

“Hey Daniel?” he asked, tired enough that the words felt distant, like they were coming from someone else.

“Nnnnn?” Daniel grunted in acknowledgment.

“What’s it feel like? When I’m inside you?” He was too wrung out to even be self-conscious about the question. Daniel tapped his fingers against the ridges of Johnny’s ribs, thinking.

“It’s...intense,” he ended up replying quietly. “In a good way, mostly. The first time, it was overwhelming, like I didn’t know if I wanted more or if I wanted to call time and forget the whole thing. But then, when you start moving…” He paused, breath hitching a little. “Well, I dunno if I can describe that, because both times, I kinda lost my mind. It’s amazing.” He looked up. “How come? Do you...wanna try it?”

Johnny stared at the ceiling. Did he? He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t wondered about it before, especially when Daniel was a couple fingers deep inside him and angling them just right. And he figured he would have to, maybe even sooner rather than later, or else Daniel’s ass might fall off or something. Was that anatomically possible?

The idea of it - of letting Daniel do that, to him, not just with his fingers, but with his - he swallowed, mouth dry, skin hot and tight. Not necessarily in an unpleasant way, but…

“I don’t know,” he said slowly, chancing a glance over at the other boy. Did it mean something if he didn’t want to - at least not yet? Was he not, like, committed enough?

Daniel smiled at him, eyes crinkling fondly.

“That’s okay,” he reassured him. “It’s not like the door’s closed forever if you say no right now, Johnny.” He shifted closer, folding his hands on Johnny’s chest and propping his chin atop them. “Besides - between you and me, I know which way I like best, and I ain’t in any hurry to switch things up. But whenever you’re ready, we can. You deserve to know how good this feels, too, if you want.”

More relieved than he wanted to let on, Johnny exhaled and hooked an arm around his neck, pulling him in closer.

“I’m not saying never,” he said. “I just need some time to get used to the idea.”

After that, they were content to simply lay there, basking and dozing. It couldn’t last forever, though, and eventually Daniel forced himself up with an uncomfortable grunt.

“Alright, come on, we gotta get moving,” he cajoled. “I gotta change these sheets so I can actually sleep in this bed again.”

Johnny groaned in protest as Daniel started shoving at him, jostling him toward the edge of the tiny mattress. In retaliation, he flopped over, starfishing to pin Daniel under two heavy limbs.

“You’re heartless,” he whined. “Give a guy some time to recover. It’s hard work blowing your mind this regularly.”

Daniel scoffed.

“You got a pretty high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”

“I feel my record speaks for itself,” Johnny declared.

For once, Daniel had no rejoinder to that but to thump him with the pillow, and Johnny smirked triumphantly.

“Alright, well, why don’t you go blow your own dick in the shower, then, Casanova, because I got shit to do.”

“Fine,” Johnny grumbled, dragging himself up. “But I’m using all the hot water. All of it.” He whipped his t-shirt (pretty gently) against Daniel’s ass as he got up, relishing the affronted yelp that followed him out of the room. Finicky little bastard.

Twenty minutes later, he had to admit that the shower had gone a long way toward making him feel like a human being again, skin scrubbed pink and wet hair combed back (though it would inevitably fall wherever it wanted, as always, as it dried).

Daniel eyed him appreciatively and let rip a wolf whistle as Johnny ambled into the bedroom again, shirt slung over one shoulder and jeans not yet buttoned.

“Your turn, Danielle,” he said, pleased at the appraisal. “One icy cold shower, coming right up.”

“Alright, be out in a few. You better be lying about using all the hot water,” he menaced as he left the room, but the already limited intimidation factor was undercut by the fact that he was definitely shuffling noticeably now.

(Johnny _had_ been lying. He’d kept his own shower lukewarm - partly because it was hot as balls out, and partly because he figured Daniel might need the soothing beat of a steaming shower spray more than he did right now.)

While Daniel cleaned up, Johnny made himself useful by washing and drying the pans and plates that had been abandoned in the sink during their argument. He even scraped the ruined eggs into the trash, and if that wasn’t love...

It was all oddly domestic, and while one part of Johnny rebelled against the inherent strangeness of it, taking up space in Mr. Miyagi’s home like he belonged there, the other half enjoyed it. The little house was peaceful, all homey wood and old school Japanese architecture. It was like stepping into a different world.

He heard Daniel fumbling with the shower curtain and at the same time as the wholly unexpected knock on the door. Paralyzed with indecision, Johnny wondered what he should do. This wasn’t his house. No one knew he was here. What if it was someone he didn’t want to run into?

For a wild second, his thoughts turned briefly to Terry Silver and Kreese, who were theoretically still out there, capable of handing down chaos at the moment of their choosing, and his mood darkened. Just let them try. Daniel had spoken of it all like it was a finite event firmly left to the past, but Johnny knew guys like that. Had been a guy like that. It was never really over.

Again, whoever was at the door knocked furiously, this time calling out as well.

“Hello? Daniel? Mr. Miyagi?” Johnny stopped breathing. It was Ali. Oh, sweet Jesus.

In a flash, he recalled how he’d ditched her there in the sand last night, shooting off after Daniel. At the time, he hadn’t cared what she thought, and he still sort of didn’t. But just the same, he didn’t have an easy explanation for her, or truly any explanation that he was particularly inclined to give.

The banging didn’t stop, and with no sign of Daniel yet, Johnny finally sucked his teeth and strode over to the door, pulling it open with a little more force than was probably advisable.

“Can I help you?” He asked outright, dispensing with the pleasantries.

Ali gawked at him like she hadn’t seen him in twelve years, not twelve hours.

“Johnny. I thought I saw your car here,” she whispered after a period of shocked silence. “But I wasn’t sure, and…and...” She petered off, paling even under the glow of her summer tan.

Daniel chose that moment to make his grand appearance, wrapped in a blue robe - and whoa, that was cute as hell. Johnny was definitely ripping that off him the next time he was able to get his dick powered on.

“Johnny, who the hell is knocking on the…” he stopped in his tracks, staring at Ali, both bewildered and horrified. “Ali. What...what’re you doing here?” he asked uneasily.

Her eyes bounced between the two of them, unblinking, like they were playing a particularly riveting game of tennis instead of just standing in place, shifting uncomfortably.

“I was worried,” she explained faintly. “I know we didn’t end things on the best terms last year, but the way you ran off - and then Johnny went after you...I thought, maybe...” she trailed off, looking down. “I guess I’m not sure what I thought.”

“Oh. Well, I’m okay,” Daniel reassured her, oblivious to the tension pervading the room. “You just caught me on a bad night.” Not technically a lie. “And it’s cool, Johnny and I are sort of...friends, now.” Also not _technically_ a lie.

Nonetheless, Johnny suppressed a wince. They’d have to work on that one a bit.

“Friends,” Ali repeated. “You’re friends?”

Daniel looked over at Johnny, questioning, only now picking up on the fact that something wasn’t quite right.

“Well...yeah,” he affirmed, uncertain of her angle. He appeared deeply mortified to be having this conversation in his bathrobe, arms hugged close to his body.

“I think I need to sit down,” Ali said abruptly, dropping into the nearest chair. Then, she locked eyes with Johnny. “So. You weren’t kidding when you said it was really, really complicated, were you?”

The jig was up. Johnny shrugged helplessly.

“I got a type,” he confessed. “Small. Feisty. Nasty right hook.”

Daniel’s mouth dropped as he caught on.

“Hold up, so you...and she...” he swung his gaze around to Ali. “You...how did you…?” He trailed off, completely stumped.

Ali sat back, unable to suppress her laughter. It was good-natured, if a touch manic.

“God, you don’t even realize it, do you?” She covered her smile with her hand. “You get in the same room and you can’t take your eyes off each other. It’s always been like that, but I guess I never understood why.”

Daniel crossed his arms, defensive.

“Not sure what you mean,” he sniped. “I’m lookin’ at you right now.”

“Sure,” she countered, “but he’s looking at _you_.”

Daniel’s head jerked around and Johnny’s gaze snapped down. Okay, whatever. It was Daniel’s fault for wearing that ratty little robe anyway, Jesus.

“Alright,” he said, fed up and ready to put an end to this little sideshow so that he could get back to the perfectly great day he’d been having. “What d’you want us to say, Ali? Yes. Whatever you’re thinking, probably yes. But we’re not hurting anyone. And it isn’t some weird karate rivalry thing, either. We’re just…” he trailed off, then, because he didn’t know what to say.

 _Fucking. We’re just fucking._ Sure, he could say that, but they weren’t _just_ fucking, and he couldn’t pretend that was all it was, not even to get Ali off their backs.

But sometimes he forgot that he’d dated her for two years, and that she was one of just a handful of people on this earth who knew him well enough to read him flat, so when she looked at him she was able to recognize something in his expression that stunned her.

“Alright, then,” she said, gentle. Then she squared her shoulders. “Daniel, can I talk to you for a minute?” Her eyes darted toward Johnny. The “alone” was implied.

“Why?” Daniel asked warily. “I don’t think there’s anything you need to say that you can’t - ”

“It’s fine, Daniel,” Johnny interrupted. “Think I’ve had about enough of this, anyway. Tell your _boyfriend_ I said hi, Ali.” His mouth twisted as he stomped toward Daniel’s room, shoving the little screen door - a shoji, he thought the other boy had called it - shut. He didn’t need to hear his ex-girlfriend warning her ex-boyfriend off her other ex-boyfriend, if that’s what she had in mind.

He pushed the heels of his hands to his eyes, sprawling across Daniel’s now neatly made bed. What could she possibly have to say to him that Daniel didn’t already know? Probably nothing good. Sure, they’d shared a nostalgic (drunk) kiss and parted mostly pleasantly yesterday, but Johnny wasn’t stupid enough to think that it had totally erased everything bad that had happened between them.

And it certainly didn’t mean she didn’t have a good reason to be worried about Daniel taking up with him - especially since the last time she’d seen them, they’d been ignoring each other at best, and hell bent on mutually assured destruction at worst. Not exactly the foundation for a winning relationship.

But he was different now, dammit. At least different enough to have moved past being the ace degenerate who punched and kicked his way through whatever obstacles were in his way. She didn’t have any right to judge him or have a say in what he and Daniel were trying to build together.

He sulked for quite some time, hugging Daniel’s pillow to his chest, pretending with all his might that he wasn’t thinking about or attempting to eavesdrop on the conversation taking place outside this room, of which he could only hear muffled voices.

What if she did succeed in talking Daniel out of this whole thing? Was that even possible? It had only been a day!

But then (and now Johnny turned onto his back, strongly considering lifting the pillow over his face and letting nature take care of the rest), it had only been a day - no great loss, in the grand scheme of things.

Shit.

(Strangely, in this whole bizarre ordeal, the thing he was least concerned about was the fact that she’d found them out. He was definitely not thrilled about it, for a lot of different reasons - not least of all because they’d need to get better about discretion if they didn’t want to end up on the wrong end of some dickhead with a baseball bat.

But of all the people who could have discovered them like this, Ali was probably the best of a lot of bad options, checkered romantic past with the both of them notwithstanding. She was tolerant - she’d hated the way he and the other Cobras used to throw the word faggot around - and kind of a liberal bleeding heart, much to the disapproval and bafflement of her conservative parents. He thinks she probably would’ve voted for Mondale if she could’ve.)

He drilled twin holes into the ceiling and refused to turn his head when he heard the shoji door open, even after Daniel padded over to stand by the bed. Giving him no choice, the other boy leaned into his line of sight, blinking down.

“Somethin’ interesting up there?” He asked, amused. Well, Johnny supposed if he was getting kicked to the curb, Daniel was at least gonna be nice about it. He wasn’t sure if that was worse or not. “Scoot up.” He nudged Johnny back toward the wall and hopped onto the bed himself, robe and all, settling in before tugging Johnny’s head over to come rest on his skinny little terrycloth-clad chest, pulling at his arm until it draped across his waist.

So, really nice about it, maybe. He’d never been dumped mid-snuggle before. Maybe there was a first time for everything.

“Ali tells me you forgot her birthday,” Daniel started conversationally. “That wasn’t very nice. Mine is December 18, so you better write it down somewhere, bud.”

Johnny sighed, relieved.

“I did worse than that,” he mumbled. Daniel’s hand came up to stroke through his hair - god, Johnny loved that.

“Maybe,” Daniel replied. “But here’s the thing, Johnny - you already pushed me off a cliff. You aimed a flying kick at my head. If Ali had been trying to talk me outta this, there’s not a whole lot she could’ve said to me that would top either of those things.”

“It was a hill! And _we_ pushed you down it, not off it.” Johnny protested. He thought about raising his head, but he was way too comfortable. “But...fair point, I guess.”

“Damn straight it’s a fair point. Plus, I’m gonna be walking funny for two days, you think I’d just let just anyone do that to me?”

“No,” Johnny admitted grudgingly, fully relaxing now. “Guess not. You’re kind of a slut for it, but you’re not that bad. Ow!” He peered balefully up at the other boy. “You wanna watch it? I know you like these locks way too much to risk me losing’em permanently.”

Daniel whistled serenely.

“She probably had some good points, though,” Johnny eventually followed up, searchingly. She usually did. It was why he'd hated arguing with her.

“Mmm, she did.” The warmth of the room and the silky feel of Johnny’s mostly dried hair under his fingers was lulling Daniel to sleep.

“I wasn’t always the best boyfriend.”

“Join the club,” Daniel yawned. Now, Johnny lifted his head up to take him in, lids heavy and dark curls mussed against the white of the pillow. His heart constricted, just a bit.

“Are you going to tell me anything she said?”

“Hmmm, in a little while,” Daniel slurred, hand going lax in Johnny’s hair.

Fine. Johnny laid back down, tuning out everything but the steady thump of the heart under his ear. He took Daniel’s free hand in his, pressing his lips to the scars on the knuckles, just briefly. A promise - if only to himself. He could wait.

But...while he waited, a nap didn’t sound like the worst idea.

*****

They slept long enough that by the time they roused, sweaty and grumpy with the realization that they did need to do some adult things besides fuck and sleep, the sun was starting to dip in the sky. Daniel still had to take care of the bonsai, and Johnny - well, Johnny had to tag along, and maybe see if he could coax him into that apron again.

But after that was all out of the way, they had a whole evening free to spend as they pleased (barring anymore more uninvited visitors, that is). That was pretty aces.

They took Daniel’s car, and Johnny spent a minute marveling at the fact that this was the first time he was riding shotgun with the other boy behind the wheel. Daniel eyed him over the rims of his oversized aviators.

“Ready to roll?” he asked, looking for all the world like a true California boy, with his permatan, sleeveless t-shirt, and wind-ruffled hair.

Johnny nodded, lounging back and chuckling internally at how rankled Daniel would be if he knew what he’d been thinking just now.

Together, they drove off into the sun-drenched summer evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oy. this one was a real struggle, and i'm sorry if that bled into the writing. as always, immense thanks for slogging through these ramblings o’mine. my next WIP i can tell you i will not be setting a precedent for 8k-9k chapters. and no. the chapter title is not a reference to the *NSYNC song lol.
> 
> also. okay. so. i love mr. miyagi, a lot. and i fully accept that i may be in the unpopular opinion minority here re KKIII. but, like...he had no problem entering daniel into the tournament to get cobra kai off his back in the first movie. HOW was this situation any different? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE.
> 
> tumblr [here](https://lessonforwholelife.tumblr.com/) if you’re bored and looking forward to one post every two weeks.


	9. for once in my life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am once again asking for your support in reading 10k words per chapter. god bless you. all of you.
> 
> as always, thank you so much for reading - your kind, thoughtful comments fuel me (clearly, since I can’t stop with the words), and it’s always a thrill when i realize the readers are on the same page as me w/r/t interpretation. :)
> 
> warnings: homophobic and derogatory language, underage drinking (a little), smuts, sad boys who need therapy but only have each other.

That evening, they returned to Mr. Miyagi’s house with a couple of pizzas and - after a little wheedling from Johnny - a six-pack of cold beers. They set up an improvised picnic on the back porch, the dim yellow glow of the lights and the quiet chirp of crickets lending an unintentional glow of romance to the whole evening.

Though he’d managed to forget all about it while they were out, Ali’s visit was weighing heavily on Johnny’s mind again, now that they were back at the scene of the crime. Though she’d only been there for maybe twenty minutes, questions of what she could have said in that time wouldn’t let him alone.

He chewed his pizza in mostly pensive silence, throwing in a noise or two where appropriate while Daniel chattered on about the bonsais, the art lecture Jessica had dragged him to - Jesus, _that_ was what they’d had plans to do on Thursday? - a new kata Mr. Miyagi was going to teach him - basically every thought large and small that passed through his head. Truth be told, Johnny hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that constant, cheerful nattering until he wasn’t around it every day.

He was jarred from his thoughts by a bottle cap flicked with unerring accuracy at his forehead. The hell?

He narrowed his eyes at LaRusso, who was twinkling at him over a half eaten slice of pizza, a full, open bottle of beer dangling from his other hand. He bit his lip, smiling, and Johnny wanted to find that a lot less charming than he actually did.

“Ground control to Major John,” he intoned. “Where’d you go? Looked far enough away to need a passport.”

“If you want me a little closer, LaRusso, just say so,” Johnny drawled, taking a swig of his beer.

Challenge accepted. Daniel immediately shuffled across the deck, bridging the already small distance between them, arranging Johnny as he pleased until he’d shoved his way under one solid, heavy arm.

“Comfortable?” Johnny groused, feeling a little like a marionette. Nonetheless, he flicked the remains of the pizza crust he was holding into the yard so that he could clasp hands loosely with LaRusso’s.

Daniel grimaced.

“He’s gonna find that and retaliate by makin’ me mow and trim everything back here,” he complained. Still, he didn’t make a move to get up and retrieve it, instead choosing to curl deeper into Johnny’s side. “But yes,” he sighed. “This is nice.”

It _was_ nice. The backyard was dark and peaceful, the beer had a cold, refreshing bite, and it was warm but not too warm. Plus, Daniel fit so perfectly along the line of his body it was like he was made for it, made exactly to spec for Johnny. It was perfect.

And yet…

“Hey, Daniel?” Johnny’s voice cut through the night, low and uncertain.

“Hmmmmmmm?” Daniel asked, slowly but surely melting further into Johnny’s body with every minute that passed.

“What’d Ali say to you? Y’know, earlier?” Thoroughly surprised, Daniel lifted his head to look Johnny in the eye.

“Ali?”

“Yeah, before she left.” Johnny looked down, embarrassed to even be asking. “It couldn’t all have been about what a bad boyfriend I was, could it?”

Daniel looked alarmed.

“Johnny, if I’d known it was gonna eat at you all afternoon I would’ve just told you then.”

“It didn’t, really,” Johnny reassured him. “I only just started thinking about it, but now I can’t stop.”

Daniel squinted at him, assessing, before seeing something that satisfied him and settling back in.

“It wasn’t anything too bad, I promise. You really wanna know?” He felt Johnny nod. “Mostly she just said that…” he drummed his fingers against Johnny’s stomach, thinking. “She said that you sometimes feel a lot, and really intensely, and you don’t always know what to do with those feelings.” He laughed. “But I kinda already knew that. I guess she just wanted to make sure I knew what I was getting into.”

Face hot, Johnny sat up, pulling away.

“Oh yeah, because I’m such an asshole?”

“Hey, wait!” Anxious, Daniel pulled at his shirt, unwilling to let him move out of his airspace. “Of course not. That’s not what she meant. At all. Honestly, she seemed just as worried about you as she was about me. She said if I wasn’t serious about this then I should think again about the whole thing. Guess you’ve got a bad habit of falling pretty fast and hard.”

The comforting hand Daniel brought up to caress the back of Johnny’s neck tempered the slightly smug edge to his words. Johnny couldn’t even muster up some cursory irritation at the tiny, overly pleased grin he felt against his shoulder, because, well - it was true. With Ali, it had taken about ten seconds for him to decide he was gonna win her over, and with Daniel, he’d been a goner - subconsciously, anyway - right around the second one bony fist made contact with his mouth.

After a minute, Daniel sobered, fingers slowing thoughtfully against Johnny’s skin.

“I think she was also a little freaked out because of...well, everything that’s going on,” he said, uncomfortable. He didn’t specify - probably a little concerned Johnny might have a meltdown again if he did. But it was pretty obvious what he was talking about. “Since she’s studying medicine and all.” Pause. “But, you know, we’re being careful. There’s nothing to worry about.” He said it like he was convincing himself as much as he was reassuring the other boy.

Johnny’s breath felt stuck in his throat. He knew Daniel was right, and that there wasn’t truly anything to be concerned about - they’d only really been with each other like _that_ , and they’d been careful.

But it was a brutal reminder that the outside world still existed, pressing harshly on the walls of this little haven they'd created for themselves. An anonymous, faceless outside world teeming with prejudices, and suppositions, and cold judgments about what people could and should do with their lives.

He didn’t even realize that he’d gone rigid - breath hitching, hand clenching Daniel’s so hard it must’ve hurt, shit - until Daniel dropped in front of him, gently grasping his forearms.

“Hey. John. Look at me.” He didn’t. He couldn’t. “Come on, Johnny. Look at me.” His voice was purposefully firm and steady, and though it took him a moment, Johnny finally got his eyes up. “There you are. Good job. Keep looking at me, alright? Right in the eyes. Don’t forget to breathe. In and out, you know the drill. In and out.”

Slowly, carefully, so that Johnny could see every movement, Daniel brought his hands up and cupped them around his face. “In and out.” He kept repeating the words, slow and soothing.

They did this for a few long minutes, until Johnny felt better and less like he was about to vibrate out of his own skin, grounded by the soft brush of Daniel’s thumbs across his cheeks, timed to each steady inhale and exhale. Breathing finally under control, he stared into Daniel’s pretty brown eyes, totally thrown by what had just happened.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, I didn’t - ”

“Hey, no.” Daniel cut him off, crowding in further to kneel over his lap, hands still anchored firmly to his face. “That's not necessary. You’re allowed to be scared, Johnny.” His voice dropped. “I’m scared, too. All the time. When I...when I fought Barnes last year, I was terrified, and I was ready to give in to it. He just kept hitting me, and hitting me, and - well, you saw,” he laughed awkwardly, with little real humor, and Johnny at least had enough awareness of his own body to give his thigh a comforting squeeze.

“I just wanted to go home, and forget the whole damn thing,” Daniel continued. “But Mr. Miyagi said to me - he said it was okay to lose to my opponent, but not to lose to fear. And he was right. It’s the only reason I could even think about getting back up again.” He fell quiet, lost in thought. “So it’s okay to freak out. But as long as we don’t let the fear win, I think - I think it’ll be okay. And if you _do_ need to freak out, I got you.” He grinned a little. “I may be skinny, but I think we both know how rock solid these guns are.”

He flexed one bony arm to prove his point, and Johnny finally felt like there was enough air in his lungs to laugh.

Wordlessly, he dropped his head into Daniel’s chest, let him wrap him up in those slim, strong arms and wound his own around his back in return.

“I know it’s not gonna be easy,” Daniel finished quietly. “But I don’t think anything worth having ever is. And for me...this is worth having.”

He didn’t say anything more, just stayed wrapped around Johnny, cradling him in the cooling night air. In turn, Johnny closed his eyes, breathing in that fresh, lemony scent that he was pretty sure he couldn’t live without anymore.

“For me, too,” he finally said, soft but audible. “In case you didn’t know.” Daniel kissed his head, smiling, a thing Johnny felt but couldn’t see. Curving into his skin. Branded into his heart.

They stayed like that for a little while, quiet but content, before Daniel nudged him.

“Hey. It’s getting late. You wanna watch the Saturday night movie before SNL comes on?”

That sounded nice. Johnny nodded silently, and they disentangled, cleaning up the empty pizza boxes and bottles in the twilight and taking the trash out to the cans, hand-in-hand until they got to the street.

Before they went inside, Daniel grabbed Johnny’s hand again, pulling him in and tiptoeing up to kiss him, gentle and reassuring. As he pulled away, Johnny grabbed him around the waist and pulled him in again for a longer, harder embrace, breaking away after a moment to kiss down his neck and bury his head in the crook of his shoulder, wrapping him up tight once again.

“Thanks,” he breathed. “If I ever freak out, it’s not because...” He trailed off.

Daniel looped his arms around his neck and squeezed, solid and sure.

“I know.”

*****

Back inside, Daniel dragged the shitty house TV into his room, fidgeting with the rabbit ears until he could get it to display some kind of discernible picture.

They tucked together on his bed to watch, back to front, Daniel’s soft shock of dark hair tickling Johnny’s chin. Daniel had argued hard for big spoon, hands on his hips and obstinate, and Johnny had rolled his eyes and indulged him. That had lasted right up until Daniel realized, disgruntled, that he couldn’t comfortably see the TV from that position.

Oh well. Johnny would make it up to him later. (And _that_ thought had lasted right up until an irascible Daniel had swapped their positions by grunting and clambering carelessly over him, jostling the bruising over his ribs that had gotten progressively achier.)

Other than that, neither of them had any real complaints. The heat wave of the last few days was breaking, so it had cooled enough that they could do this without suffocating. And the comforting, solid warmth of their bodies, plus the dimness of the room, meant that Johnny didn’t make it more than fifteen minutes into the shitty movie before he was drifting off into deep, dreamless sleep.

*****

Later - had it been minutes? Hours? The TV was off, and it was pitch black - Johnny awoke with a snap. He wasn’t sure why he’d come abruptly back to consciousness until he registered the soft, wet lips suckling under his jaw, working a path down his neck. Startled and still half asleep, he moaned.

“Daniel, what’re you... _mmmm_...doing?” he slurred. He feels Daniel smile into his collarbone.

“Hey, you’re awake.” His voice was pitched low and seductive, and it turned out Johnny’s cock was definitely more alert than his brain, because it had already gotten up to speed with the proceedings.

“Yeah, but...why?” Johnny congratulated himself on articulating that, since Daniel had chosen that moment to draw one nipple gently between his teeth on his path down Johnny’s body.

“Well…” Daniel moved to mouth hotly around his navel, and Johnny could practically feel the self-satisfaction oozing from the other boy as Johnny’s stomach contracted with want.

Fuck. _Was he…?_

“Yesterday, you were so good to me. You made me feel so good. I wanted to return the favor,” Daniel whispered against his skin.

_Oh god._

Johnny had about ten seconds to absorb seventeen different overwhelming thoughts before Daniel was yanking his shorts down and swallowing his dick with a frankly obscene slurping noise. Johnny clapped a hand over his mouth to suppress his surprised shout (then wondered why he’d done that, since there was no one around to hear him).

Fuck. Fuck. Daniel’s mouth was warm, so warm, and he was moaning and tonguing the thick vein on the underside of Johnny’s cock just hard enough to drive him absolutely wild right off the bat, liquid heat spreading like wildfire through his groin and belly. His hips twitched, and he only just managed to stop himself from bucking them, from driving his cock right down the pliant, slick clutch of Daniel’s throat.

Daniel tore himself away with a filthy pop, ignoring Johnny’s agonized whine as he did so. Johnny couldn’t see him, but he could picture with crystal clarity his swollen, reddened lips and his big, dark bedroom eyes.

“It’s okay. You can fuck my mouth if you want,” Daniel said hoarsely before diving back in, and oh _holy shit_ , Johnny was gonna die right here, right here on a twin bed in fucking Canoga Park.

But what a fucking way to go.

With one unsteady hand, Johnny reached down to dig his fingers into Daniel’s hair, not holding his head in place so much as anchoring himself to what he knew was real. He gave a small, tentative thrust, and the shaky little turned on noise Daniel let slip from the back of his throat hit Johnny like a gut punch. He repeated the motion once, twice, again and again, rocking his way to a careful, shallow tempo.

On and on it went, the gentle thrum of pleasure swelling to a pulsing drumbeat. Daniel worked him wet and steady with his hands and mouth, bobbing his head to the rhythm Johnny had set long after he’d lost the ability to keep it.

“Fuck,” Johnny whimpered, the base of his spine tingling and tightening. “Fuck, Daniel, I’m -” he wanted to warn Daniel that he was _this_ close to coming, but at some point Daniel had managed to sneak two slick fingers into the cleft of his ass to stroke at his entrance, soft and searching and absolutely maddening, and he lost the thread completely, all the air vacuumed out of his lungs.

Distantly, he registered a high, desperate keening noise, then realized it was coming from _him_. But he couldn’t care about that right now, consumed by the wet drag of Daniel’s mouth on his cock, and the blunt, unyielding pressure of his fingers as they pushed into him, one after another. All at once, Daniel hummed and curled his fingers into that white hot spot inside, and that was ballgame.

Johnny shuddered and broke with a strangled cry, muffled into his pillow, hips thrashing back and forth. Daniel coaxed him through the peak of his tremors, sucking hard and fucking him relentlessly, swallowing as much as he could, then easing off as he tumbled down from his high.

Finally, Daniel pulled away. Like he was having an out-of-body experience, Johnny experienced two things in parallel: the buzzing of his skin as he recovered from that nuclear orgasm, and the lingering brand of a kiss that Daniel laid to his trembling hipbone as he gently tucked him back into his shorts.

He felt the other boy push his way back up the head of the bed, and that’s when Johnny pounced. Still reeling from the aftershocks of his climax, he rolled them and pinned Daniel’s wrists, kissing him hard and dirty.

Oh god. He could taste himself on Daniel’s tongue. His dick twitched, sad and limp - spirit willing, but flesh grievously weakened.

“Where the fuck did that come from?” Johnny asked, panting, after the need for air forced him to break away.

“I’ve been wanting to try it for a while,” Daniel admitted, voice practically gone.

If Johnny had had any gas left in the tank, anything at all - seriously, there was _nothing_? - the rasping, faint sound of it would’ve surely gotten him going again.

“Do you need…” Johnny’s hand started traveling down, and Daniel grabbed it to stop its trajectory.

“Nah,” he admitted, and Johnny could practically hear the blush. “I’m - I’m good. Besides, this was just for you.”

Johnny felt warm all over. It was a new, fragile gift, this - this caring. This willingness to let someone care for him. He wasn’t totally sure how to coexist with it yet.

“Okay,” he replied thickly, a little awestruck. He dropped his head down to kiss Daniel again, slow and reverent, before slumping back onto the bed, already halfway back to dreamworld. The last thing Johnny noted with any clarity was Daniel crowding his way into his personal space, one arm flung low across his hips, and then the calm embrace of sleep enfolded him once again.

*****

As it turned out, the only real downside to having more mind-blowing sex over a 24-hour period than Johnny’s body knew how to handle was having a partner who somehow still managed to rise in accordance with the morning sun.

He groaned heartily as Daniel tried and failed to slip out of his grasp without disturbing his sleep, clawing ineffectually at the other boy while his eyes stayed firmly shut.

“Shhhh,” Daniel chuckled. “Go back to sleep. I’m just gonna go do some meditation and run through my kata.”

God. What a fucking freak. Johnny loved karate as much as anyone, but there was no way in hell he’d be dragging his ass out of bed at six a.m. on a Sunday just to do kata and breathe meaningfully.

Sweatpants already in hand, Daniel leaned over the bed to kiss the side of Johnny’s head before he left the room, and that’s when the sleeping cobra struck, sweeping his arm and neatly managing to roll him so that he was pinned underneath Johnny’s arm and leg.

Okay, maybe _some_ karate at six a.m. was acceptable, but only if it was in service of a noble cause.

“Johnny,” Daniel protested, laughing and unsuccessful in his attempts to push the other boy off. “Not again! Come on. I’m not askin’ you to get up with me this time, I just want to get a workout in.”

“LaRusso, it is Sunday,” Johnny said firmly, face planted obstinately in his pillow. “Do you know who gets up this early on Sundays? The paperboy. Priests. That bald guy from the Sunday morning news. That’s it. No one else.”

“Not true,” Daniel grunted and squirmed as Johnny deliberately increased the amount of weight he was bearing down on him. “Mr. Miyagi and I get up this early every Sunday. Just because you don’t crawl your way here ‘til ten doesn’t mean the world ain’t still turning.”

“Fine. You can keep your insane little Sunday tradition when Mr. Miyagi’s here. But he’s not. Right now _I’m_ here, and I’m begging you - no leaving this bed before eight.” Daniel paused his struggle, considering.

“Seven-thirty?” he finally asked.

“ _Eight._ ”

Much to Johnny’s incredible self-satisfaction, they didn’t actually end up getting up until eight-thirty. Once Daniel relented, Johnny did _try_ to fall back asleep (and he thought the other boy may have been banking on that to attempt another escape). But after a while, he realized there were other, better things he could be doing in bed with a wide awake, sleep-ruffled Daniel LaRusso.

They were both still too wiped out for anything too physical. But just the same, it was pretty nice to simply lay in bed and make out, exchanging kisses without intent, soft and deep and everything in between.

Before, it had always felt like they were racing against an invisible clock - that any time spent in the other’s company was wasted if it wasn’t somehow going to lead to one or both of them coming as many times as they could. Now that Johnny knew they were in this indefinitely, it was a relief to be less frantic about the hours they spent together.

Still, he was only human. However down for the count his dick had been at six, it was bound to show at least a little interest after two-odd hours of prolonged kissing, kissing that had started out gentle and innocent but was now intensifying.

“Okay, okay,” Johnny finally gasped, tearing himself away from the boy sprawled lazily atop him. “Maybe you had a point about getting up.”

“Oh,” Daniel said breathlessly, closing his eyes and melting down into Johnny’s chest as gentle teeth grazed his earlobe, “ _now_ he admits I was right.”

It was a near thing, but they both managed to separate and dress, spurred in part by the very real possibility that Mr. Miyagi could arrive home and walk in on them at any time now.

After breakfast, Daniel was still like a dog with a bone about his kata, so Johnny folded himself into a comfortable position in the backyard with his coffee and watched him get on with it. He’d never seen him run it through in full before, and there was something beautiful about the slow, measured movements, backlit by the glint of the morning sun off the lingering dew.

“I saw you do this at the tournament,” Johnny said, apropos of nothing, as Daniel was winding down. Daniel paused, and Johnny wondered if he shouldn’t have even brought it up.

“Yeah,” Daniel finally replied, wiping the sweat off his face with the hem of his tank. “Mr. Miyagi taught me this one right before everything went down with - with Silver. It always helped center me, but Silver didn’t think too much of it. Probably should've been a warning sign,” he said, rueful. “He _wanted_ me off-center.”

He was silent for a minute. “Anyway, it saved my ass during the All Valley, helped me focus enough to figure out a way to catch Barnes off his feet and get that last point.”

Daniel came to sit down - a little gingerly - on the deck next to Johnny, who slung a comforting arm around his shoulders. In turn, he dropped his dark, sweaty head to his shoulder.

“For a while after the tournament,” he continued quietly, “the kata was the only thing I wanted to do. I was so done with fighting. And Silver had hated it, so I felt like maybe that meant it was the only thing about karate _worth_ doing.”

“What changed your mind?” Johnny asked curiously. Daniel grinned.

“You did. Well, you and Mr. Miyagi, I guess,” he amended. “He saw what was goin’ on with me first. Like usual. And then one day here you come, strolling into this yard like you own it, ready to rumble, and I guess it was the kick in the pants I needed to understand that not everyone is always gonna wanna go straight for my throat. Karate isn’t always grudge matches and battles to the death. It’s fun. And you’re part of the reason I remembered that, so I guess I kind of owe you one.”

Johnny thought that if either of them was indebted to the other, it was definitely the other way around, but he wasn’t really sure how to say that without sounding like a hopeless sap so he held his tongue. It was some time before either of them spoke again.

“Hey Johnny?” Daniel finally asked, soft and considering.

“Hmm?”

“Would you wanna try something new with me?” Idly, Johnny noted that while his voice was mostly back to normal, there was a slight scratchiness there that belied exactly what he’d been doing the night before.

So not the point, but the thought did have him agreeing to Daniel’s request without much questioning.

Ten minutes later, Johnny was wondering if that had been the wisest course of action, after LaRusso had harangued him into sitting back-to-back, pressed together, legs crossed.

“Come on,” Daniel had begged. “Just five minutes. If you hate it after that, then we’ll stop. But I wanna test something I read about. Just for five minutes, please?” His expression had been open and beseeching, his eyes wide and guileless.

Godammit. As soon as Johnny left this place, he was going to have to go on an intensive search for his missing backbone, because this was getting just ridiculous.

“Fine,” Johnny had relented, palming one knee. “You’ve got five minutes, and five minutes only.”

Now, Daniel nudged against him, a reassuring weight at his back.

“So, it’s really easy,” he started. “All you gotta do is close your eyes, relax your body, and breathe when I breathe.”

Great. He should’ve guessed it’d be one of those hokey, New Age-y little meditation exercises that LaRusso and Miyagi were obsessed with. Well, that was okay, he supposed - it was relatively painless, at least.

Reluctantly, Johnny let his eyes drift shut, and he took a second to study the rise and fall of Daniel’s spine against his before following along.

The first minute or two felt pretty dull and pointless, and Johnny wondered if he should start counting down the remaining three minutes in sixty second increments, just to pass the time.

But a funny thing happened as he got further into it. Buoyed by the quiet still of the backyard, eyes closed, unable to see anything, Johnny’s breath began syncing seamlessly with Daniel’s.

It wasn’t just his breath or Daniel’s breath - it was _their_ breath, entering into _their_ lungs and exhaling out through _their_ mouth, deep and even and sure. It was a higher plane of connection, one breath and body and one mind, moving and thinking and existing together. It was peace, deep and tranquil as the ocean on a still night.

Abruptly, it was all too much for Johnny, who leaned forward and disrupted the connection, breathing a little harder than he by all rights should have been.

“You okay?” Daniel asked, startled, still half in the zone himself.

“Yeah,” Johnny replied, running a hand down his face. “Yeah. That just got...kind of intense.”

Johnny couldn’t see Daniel’s smile, but he could hear it plainly enough in his voice.

“Too much for you, Lawrence?” he teased, echoes of the first night they’d spent together.

Johnny refused to dignify that with a response, but he did spin around to face Daniel, wild-eyed with resolve.

“Hey. There’s something I gotta say, and if I don’t say it now I don’t know if I ever will.”

Taken aback, Daniel nodded at him to continue.

“Okay, so.” Johnny swallowed, heart pounding. He’d never felt so nervous in his life. “What I wanna say is…” Pause. Fuck. He had to do it. “I’m sorry.” There. He’d done it, and the world hadn’t ended.

Daniel apparently wasn’t really getting the momentousness of the situation, because he raised his eyebrow.

“Sorry? For what? Look, the Ali thing is water under the bridge. We figured it out together, and it’s all good.”

Dammit, he should’ve guessed he wouldn’t get it right away. But the can of worms was open now and there was no resealing it.

“No, that’s...not what I meant. Not about the Ali thing.” Johnny paused again, miserable. “What I’m talking about is...everything else.” He flattened his mouth. “When you were over a few weeks ago, you said that I’d never apologized for real for all the shit we did to you in high school, and I guess I didn’t even realize it, but you were right. I never said the words. I fuckin’ hate apologizing,” he grumbled.

You’d think he’d learn to stop doing things he’d need to apologize for, but hey, sometimes you grew sideways.

Daniel looked a little trapped now, eyes darting around uncomfortably.

“Johnny, you don’t have to…”

“But I do,” Johnny said harshly. “And I didn’t even figure it out until today, and how messed up is that? Because you were saying all that shit about Barnes, and the All Valley, and how karate wasn’t fun anymore, and I realized - for you, it’s always been some kinda war.” He dug his fingers into his knee. “You didn’t get to learn it because you loved it, you had to learn it because we - _I_ \- wouldn’t stop eating your lunch until you kicked all our asses at the tournament. But. It never should’ve gotten that far. And sometimes - sometimes I think about it and it makes me want to hurl. I think about what could’ve happened on Halloween, if - if Mr. Miyagi hadn’t shown up, and…”

“Johnny.” Daniel’s voice was firmer, now, like steel, but Johnny was on a roll, he’d launched himself hurtling into the stratosphere and wouldn’t stop until he was breaking into pieces over the Atlantic.

“And don’t - don’t try to make me feel better, because you shouldn’t. I just, I love you, okay? And sometimes I realize that you could've just...not existed anymore, because of me, and I don’t fucking know what to do with it. And I’m just, I’m so sorry.” His mouth wobbled. “Because I think about what I’d do if Sid, that piece of shit, came up to me today and said the exact same things to me that I’m saying to you now and I don’t - I don’t know if I could forgive him. And he’s never done anything half as bad to me as I’ve done to you. So I don’t know how you can forgive me. You probably shouldn’t.”

He glanced up at Daniel once, deliberately refusing to read his expression, before affixing his watery gaze back down to the weathered wood slats.

Daniel sighed, scratching the back of his head.

“You finished now?” he finally asked. Johnny nodded, mutely. “Okay, well, first of all, you can pull your head out of your own ass, because believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around Johnny Lawrence.”

Johnny’s stare was so affronted that Daniel’s mouth twitched, like he wanted to laugh but thought better of it.

“For your information, I _wanted_ to learn karate, way before I ever knew anything about you or Cobra Kai,” he said fiercely. “I took classes in Newark. Not _great_ classes,” he acknowledged, “but they were at least with a certified instructor...I think. Anyway, why do you think I was in the Cobra Kai dojo that day you saw me?” He paused. “Do I love that I had to enter and fight in a tournament just to get you and your band of merry marauders off my back? No, but that turned out pretty well for me and pretty bad for you so I guess we can call it square.”

Daniel huffed once, drilling his fingers into the floor before continuing.

“As for forgiveness? You don’t get to decide what I can or should forgive. I decide. And while I dunno much about Sid, most of what I’ve heard ain’t good, so I don’t think it would ever occur to him to say the sorts of things that you’re saying now to me.” Daniel softened, then, scooting closer to Johnny, who had returned to staring resolutely down. “I love you, okay? That doesn’t have to make sense to you to be real. It just is.”

“But I - ” Daniel gently clapped his hand over his mouth to stop him from talking.

“Look, Kreese did a number on you, okay? Your stepdad, too. I’m not saying that absolves you of being a total shithead to me or anyone else, because it doesn’t, but I do have some personal experience in this area now. So I know it’s real fuckin’ hard to pull your head out of the Jell-O once it’s stuck in the mold. Neither of us can change what happened, so can’t we just - move forward and try not to be as dumb as before?” He took his hand off Johnny’s mouth. “Okay, you can talk now.”

Stunned silence was all that Johnny could manage for quite some time.

“How is it,” he was finally able to croak out, “that you can be so fucking smart sometimes?” Pleased, Daniel opened his mouth to respond, but then - “How is it that you can be so smart, but then you’re gonna sit there and tell me that your favorite musician is Bruce Springsteen?”

Daniel goggled at him.

“ _That_ was what you got from everything I just said?” Johnny could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears. “Because I was gonna ask you to just kiss me already, but now I think I’d rather - ”

Johnny made his move before Daniel could finish the thought, laying him out right there on the deck floor, sealing their mouths together, hard and messy. Save for the long, satisfied noise he made when their lips met, it quieted LaRusso down immediately.

After several long moments Johnny pulled away just enough to speak.

“I don’t wanna be without you again. That was what I got from everything you said,” he mumbled against Daniel’s lips. He hesitated. “Don’t - don’t make a big thing about it.”

The other boys eyes darkened, and Johnny got the feeling they’d have been about ten seconds from making it right there on the back porch were it not for the sound of a throat clearing.

“This not look like any karate Miyagi know,” came the dry greeting from the door.

The speed with which they rocketed apart would have made The Flash green with envy.

“Mr. Miyagi!” Daniel exclaimed shrilly. “You - you’re back early!”

He wasn’t kidding. Johnny wasn’t even sure if it was quite noon, and San Francisco was like five hours away.

“Beat traffic,” Miyagi said serenely. On a Sunday? Johnny wasn’t even gonna question it, based on what he now knew about the sensei-student duo’s insane morning habits. “Daniel-san, this girl you seeing?” he asked knowingly, mischief in his eyes. “Much taller than Miyagi expect.”

Was Johnny gaping? He felt like he might be gaping. He knew his heart was beating double-time, throbbing in his ears as his brain struggled to catch up with everything that was happening.

Daniel wasn’t much better off, opening and closing his mouth like a fish stranded on dry land. If his face hadn’t been beet red, Johnny would’ve half expected it to start turning blue.

“Was wondering when you come clean,” Miyagi continued on cheerfully.

“So you _did_ know!” Johnny burst out, scandalized. “You were just messing with me!”

“Miyagi old man now. Need some fun.”

Finally, Daniel dropped his head in his hands and laughed at himself. It was hard to overstate how relieved he looked.

“Well, Mr. Miyagi, I guess you really do know everything then, don’t you?” he said, impressed but not surprised.

“Not everything. Just Daniel-san.” Daniel did a double-take then, and the smiles exchanged by student and teacher were so fond it was almost gross. However, Johnny was so relieved that the old man hadn’t freaked the fuck out or used his wizard-level karate skills to kick their asses that he couldn’t be bothered with feeling uncomfortable about it.

So that was two people now who’d found out about them and essentially reacted with a nonreaction. It couldn’t always be as easy as that, but he guessed he’d take it.

“So...you’re really okay with this?” Johnny asked skeptically. He hated to look a gift horse in the mouth, but…

Miyagi had moved on to inspecting his plant life, as if two days away might’ve intrinsically changed the architecture of his meticulously kept gardenscape.

“Miyagi also walk difficult path to love. In Okinawa, rules different," he continued diplomatically, "but in California, not much come as surprise after sixties and seventies,” he smiled slyly. “Free love, Woodstock.” Bending over, he picked up the pizza crust Johnny had abandoned last night - now soggy - and held it up, giving Daniel a distinctly unimpressed look.

Johnny studiously ignored the pointed stink eye immediately tossed in his direction.

“Stay safe, stay happy, make no difference.” Miyagi continued on. Then, he paused. “And stay door closed.”

At that point, Johnny wouldn’t have been surprised if Daniel’s hands ended up permanently fused to his face.

Following that deeply mortifying exchange, Johnny had no choice but to take his medicine and stay for lunch, finally experiencing firsthand some of the fresh grilled fish on which Daniel and Miyagi seemed to almost exclusively subsist.

It actually wasn’t too bad; sure, it was painfully awkward that Miyagi now had confirmation that Johnny was shacking up with his student-slash-pseudo-son, but once you got past that, it was nice to be around people who liked each other. As much as he appreciated being away from Sid (physically, if not metaphorically), it still got kind of lonely in his little apartment sometimes - or at least it had before Daniel became a semi-regular fixture, constantly messing with the tuner on his radio and somehow leaving socks absolutely everywhere.

Plus, he had to admit the fish really was pretty good (though he drew the line at sushi).

All told, Johnny ended up whiling away most of the day at the house, helping out with odds and ends chores and maintenance, loathe to leave the idyllic little weekend bubble he and Daniel had established. Eventually, though, he did have to leave - he had work in the morning, and Miyagi and Daniel had some things to take care of at the shop, so there was an organic end point in sight.

Before he left, though, he made it a point to catch the elder man alone in the backyard while Daniel was in front, busy loading up the secondhand truck Miyagi bought to replace the one that had gone toward replenishing the bonsai stock.

“Hey Mr. Miyagi? Can I talk to you about something for a minute?” he asked in a low, confidential voice.

“Of course,” the old man said slowly, clearly confused. It wasn’t as though Johnny often - or ever - sought him out for private conversations.

In many ways, their relationship was still a little tentative - Johnny already had a karate style that suited him very much, warts and all, so he wasn’t really looking for a new sensei. But at the same time, he recognized that the man was worth listening to - he could say in one sentence something more instructive about life than most people could say in...well...a lifetime.

“Look, so, Daniel told me some things about the All Valley last year.” Now, Johnny balked, feeling like he was overstepping to the extreme but unable to resist the compulsion to say something. But he figured the old man would understand - after all, isn’t that exactly what he’d done when he’d asked Johnny to spar with his student? “And I guess - I guess it’s not really my place to ask, but I was just wondering...have you ever thought about talking to him about it? Like, _really_ talking about it?”

Miyagi stared at him consideringly, expression unreadable.

“Daniel-san will talk in own time if he want.”

Christ. They were both so incredibly smart, but so incredibly dense. And this was coming from _Johnny_ , whose emotional intelligence had been compared unfavorably, and more than once, to that of a single-celled organism.

“Thing is,” Johnny shifted uncomfortably, checking behind him to make sure Daniel was still out of earshot, “I don’t think he will. See, he’s still pretty ashamed. He thinks he’s a failure. Or, at least, he thinks _you_ think he’s a failure, and that you’re just too nice to say it.”

He saw Miyagi start, and rushed on. “You know how he is. He gets all twisted up inside his own head and starts overthinking shit. So I just think - maybe it would help, if you guys, like, y’know...cleared the air,” he finished lamely.

Miyagi sighed.

“Daniel-san tell you these things?”

“Some,” Johnny said, hedging. “It wasn’t hard to figure out the rest.” Miyagi gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“Sometimes student make best of teachers,” he said approvingly.

“So you’ll talk to him?” Johnny asked, relieved. Miyagi nodded briefly in assent. “Okay. And please don’t - don’t tell him I said anything. He’d just get pissed. He didn’t really want to tell me any of this in the first place.”

Again, Miyagi eyed him for a few long moments, like he was seeing him - really, truly seeing him - for the first time.

“Johnny-san disappear for few weeks,” he said consideringly. “Why so?”

Johnny gulped, unwilling to say too much one way or another about the exact nature of his relationship with Daniel prior to this weekend.

“I was...afraid,” he admitted. That seemed safe enough to say. “And I was letting it win. But that’s - that’s over now.”

“Not afraid anymore?”

“Still afraid,” Johnny acknowledged. “But more afraid of the alternative.”

Miyagi took a moment to absorb this, thinking it over and staring at Johnny in that way he had that made him feel like he was being undressed down to his soul.

“Johnny-san good for Daniel-san. This good,” he eventually affirmed, nodding. Then, he paused. “Very good. Otherwise, Miyagi know many place for body.”

His uproarious laughter - surprisingly loud and boisterous - at Johnny’s immediate reaction to his words was not actually indicative of whether or not he was joking about this.

Well, if it _did_ come to that, Johnny guessed there were worse ways to go.

Finally, it was time for them to part ways, with Johnny reluctantly preparing to head home. Daniel followed him out to the porch, ostensibly to say goodbye, but one lingering kiss turned into two, which turned into fifteen minutes of roving hands and frenzied necking, desperate like Johnny was shipping off to war and not simply driving twenty minutes away. They were tucked into a dark corner of the front doorstep, carefully out of view of the windows.

“Fuck,” Johnny groaned, words muffled by the fact that he couldn’t stop nipping marks into Daniel’s olive neck, “I really wish I could’ve had you one more time today.”

Daniel made a tight, aroused little noise and tilted his head to catch Johnny’s mouth, tracing his tongue along his bottom lip for a hot minute before pulling away.

“Me too,” he breathed, bringing his hand down to press against Johnny’s, curled big and possessive around his hip. “Can I - can I see you tomorrow?” he panted between increasingly sloppy kisses.

“You better,” Johnny said roughly, slipping his other hand into the back pocket of Daniel’s jeans to squeeze his ass, garnering a full-body shudder. “Or I might go nuts.”

“Okay,” Daniel murmured, resting his forehead against Johnny’s. “I think we’re just restocking, so I should be done early.”

“I’ll be home around six, so come whenever after that.” Johnny leaned in to kiss him one more time, long and languid and deep. “I should really get going,” he murmured softly, after they’d parted.

“Yeah, me too. Mr. Miyagi is waiting,” Daniel agreed, slow as molasses.

They stared at each other, and had just started to lean in again when a sharp, loud rapping on the window jolted them.

“Daniel-san! Time go!” Came the loud rebuke from inside the house. Daniel grunted and dropped his face to Johnny’s shoulder.

“That’s my cue,” he said regretfully. He leaned up and dropped a last, brief kiss to the corner of Johnny’s mouth before dragging himself away. “See you tomorrow,” he smiled before slipping inside.

Johnny sighed and resigned himself to vigorously jacking off in the shower before bed that night.

*****

The next morning, Johnny was walking on air as he headed into the office, greeting his coworkers cheerfully and accepting his assignments with aplomb.

Robby took one long look at him before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

Johnny was a little less ebullient after that.

But only a little.

*****

Johnny’s shift felt like it went on forever that day, and by the time it was over he was ready to crawl out of his own skin with anticipation.

The feeling was clearly mutual, because when Daniel arrived - knocking sharply once before letting himself in - Johnny had only just climbed out of the shower, hair damp and towel hastily knotted around his hips, music blaring. The towel was yanked off almost immediately, and they barely made it to the bed, rough and eager to devour each other.

That night, Johnny took him on his hands and knees, hard and steady. It was a position they’d never tried before, but the angle was clearly doing something intense for Daniel - his whole body had started trembling almost as soon as Johnny had gotten his cock inside him. and Johnny’d had to yank him up and clap one hand over his mouth to stop him from shouting down the stereo with every long, deep stroke in.

Through all of this, neither of them heard the phone ring, or the snick and whirr of the answering machine Johnny had finally given in and set up the night before as it picked up the missed call.

*****

Not long after that (almost embarrassingly not long after that), they collapsed side-by-side on the bed, sweat-slick and boneless and gulping down air.

“D’you think it’s possible to die from sex?” Johnny practically slurred, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Dunno,” Daniel said distantly, equally fucked out. “S’pose anything’s possible.”

“I bet you can. If you’re, like...super outta shape.”

“Good thing we do…” Daniel lazily waved his hands around in a chopping motion, like it was too much effort to even say karate.

“Yeah,” Johnny nodded. “Good thing.” Pause. “Maybe that’s why it’s so good. Secret karate sex magic.”

Daniel started giggling uncontrollably at the thought.

“Final secret of Miyagi-do,” he cackled. “The sex kata.” He immediately sobered, realizing the implications. “Ew.”

“Yeah, ew, LaRusso.” Johnny lethargically slapped at him. “Show your sensei some respect.”

Daniel batted his hand away, then immediately rolled over to curl possessively around him.

“Speaking of my sensei,” he said drowsily. “Seems like a lil’ blonde birdie put the idea in his head that we needed to have a heart-to-heart about the lead-up to last year’s All Valley.”

“Oh no,” Johnny groaned, a ball of dread settling in his stomach. “I _asked_ him not to tell you.”

“He didn’t. But you just did.” Daniel grinned into the skin of Johnny’s bicep, kissing it soothingly when he felt it tense. “Relax. It’s alright - I ain’t mad. It was sweet of you to talk to him.”

“M’not sweet,” Johnny grumped.

“You are,” Daniel countered, unbearably affectionate. “And I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear what he had to say. So you were right.” Silence. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late. You said the words “you were right”. I’m already hard again.”

“Oh my god, fuck off. I take it all back.”

“You could do that. Or you could let me blow you in the shower.”

“...you drive a hard bargain, Lawrence.”

*****

The next morning, Johnny again overlooked the blinking light of his answering machine. He was too occupied with the pint-sized octopus pinning him against the kitchen countertop, stealing as many last minute kisses as he could before he had to leave.

He also didn’t notice it when he dragged himself in from work later in the evening, sweaty and exhausted and already running a little late for the dinner he’d been absolutely dreading with his mom and Sid. Not even his good mood from several satisfying days spent with Daniel could make a dent in his trepidation about _that_.

It had been awhile since he’d been forced to spend any significant amount of time in a room alone with his stepfather (his mom didn’t really count, since she was usually a pretty ineffectual buffer), and the thought of it made nerves snake tightly around his chest.

It’s not like he was afraid Sid was gonna take a swing at him. Honestly, Johnny kind of wished he would, because he had no doubt he could destroy the old, brittle fucker, and it’d be self-defense to boot.

But that wasn’t Sid’s style - words had always been his weapon of choice, and he wielded them as effectively as Johnny wielded his fists. Which was to say, really fucking effectively.

He just had a way of getting under Johnny’s skin, of shredding every bit of confidence he had in himself until all that was left was this small, snapping, resentful little shell of a person that Sid could point to and say “See? How could Laura ever expect me to make something of _that_?”

The worst part was that Johnny still needed him, and Sid knew it. His job was fine to pass the time, but Johnny wasn’t exactly raking in the big bucks - certainly not enough to afford his current standard of living without a boost from Sid’s checkbook. He hated that that was the shape of things, but it was true. Left to his own devices, Johnny would be stuck couch surfing or he’d have to sublet out of some shithole in the projects.

He’d do it, too, because he was absolutely _never_ going to live in that mausoleum of a mansion in Encino Hills again, no matter how desperate he got, or how much he missed seeing his mom every day.

This was the main thought on his mind as he let himself into the house, resisting the urge to pull at the stiff collar of his preppy little pressed cotton polo, one of a collection of clothing items he still kept around just for interminable occasions such as this one.

“Mom?” he called tentatively, taking a few steps into the foyer. Usually, on nights like tonight, she’d be one of two places - in the kitchen, pretending she still had an active hand in the day-to-day running of the household, or in the lounge, well into her second or third generously sized glass of pricey chardonnay. The lounge was empty, so that left the kitchen.

(Which was a relief. His mom could be a maudlin drunk, which just made it ten times worse when Sid decided to start throwing his poison darts.)

Laura was right there when he entered the kitchen, bright and just as blonde as Johnny, and so beautiful it sometimes hurt to look at her. She didn’t walk so much as glide, wrapped in a bright silk crepe dress that just missed the floor and skimmed her thirty-eight-going-on-twenty-eight body perfectly.

When she saw Johnny, her smile lit up her face, and he noted how Sofia, their cook for who-knows-how-many years - enough to know how to prepare dinner for three without supervision, anyway - breathed an audible sigh of relief at the distraction Johnny represented.

“Johnny!” Laura trilled, immediately coming over to wrap her arms around him. He was, as always, surprised by the strength of her slender arms as they squeezed his shoulders.

He’d only just seen her on Friday, but that was part of her mom charm - she always greeted him like she hadn’t seen him in ages and was absolutely delighted to be in his presence. It was one of his favorite things about her, and it sometimes made it very easy to forget that she let so much of Sid’s shit fly.

“How’s my baby?” She asked affectionately, mussing the hair he’d spent half-an-hour taming.

“Same as when you saw me on Friday, Mom,” Johnny dodging the query and her hand. She sat back on her heels and squinted at him.

“No, you look different, you look happier.” Her smile immediately turned sly. “Is there a girl I should know about?”

Jesus. How the hell did she do that?

“No, Mom,” he said truthfully, “there’s no girl. Guess things are just going well for once.”

She eyed him suspiciously, but before she had a chance to follow up, a gruff, unwelcome voice interrupted their conversation.

“That the kid?” Sid shouted from the dining room. Johnny’s mouth thinned. “Tell him to get his ass out here. No reason to hide away in the kitchen.”

Laura looked up at Johnny anxiously.

“You’d better go. And please don’t start anything with him tonight, okay? He’s having a bad week at work, and you know how he gets when that happens.”

And there was Johnny’s least favorite thing about his mother. When it came to Sid, all she did anymore was appease, appease, appease. He could remember a time when she used to fight back, but it was like as soon as Johnny had learned how to defend himself, all the fight had gone out of her, and he’d never figured out how to tell her that he could still use her in his corner.

“I won’t if he doesn’t,” he said, guarded, making no absolute promises. She squeezed his hand.

“He won’t,” she swore, and yeah, she was probably lying. “There is something he wants to talk to you about, though.” Okay, she was definitely lying.

And that was Johnny’s first indication that this night was on a collision course toward catastrophe.

*****

They made it through their salads without incident, Sid having nothing worse to say than his usual litany of complaints: the uppity women at the studio who wanted to change the way things had been done for decades (that is: keep Sid’s wandering hands away from their bodies, and don’t think Johnny didn’t notice how his mom’s mouth tightened when the subject came up), Johnny’s hair, the secret fags around the office, Johnny’s general appearance, the shitty stock market, Johnny’s job, Johnny’s general sense of ingratitude for his circumstances in life - the list was endless, but basically by rote at this point.

Johnny resolutely kept his mouth shut, suppressing an eyeroll at his mom’s half-hearted chastisements every time Sid addressed the various ways with which he was deeply dissatisfied with the fact that Johnny existed.

Idly, Johnny wondered what it would be like to have Daniel here as backup, and then shut down the thought. If he had his way about it, Sid would never make it within fifteen feet of the other boy.

In reality, it was about as pleasant as Johnny could’ve expected, no worse than the usual. In some ways, it was even comforting to know that there were things that would never change.

However, it couldn’t last (of course). As the housekeeper dropped plates of veal in front of them, it was obvious from the way Sid was shifting around and clearing his throat that he was gearing up for a monumental subject change.

Johnny did his best to swallow down the acrid, acid taste of anxiety, sneaking a bite of his food to distract himself before remembering that he fucking hated veal. It felt like it was stuck in his throat.

“I had an interesting conversation the other day,” Sid said gruffly, locking eyes with Johnny from across the table and pulling a file folder out from under his seat. “Since you won’t start thinking about your future, you’ve left me no choice but to do it for you.”

Johnny stared in confusion, dread balling in his stomach as Sid tossed the folder at him. It skittered a few inches, and from where it landed, he saw the corners of a few colorful, glossy pamphlets peeking out. Apprehension spiking to eleven now, he pulled it the rest of the way.

“What’s this?” he asked with ease he didn’t feel, controlling his breathing and flicking it open. He scanned the brochure at the top of the pile. _United States Air Force._ His stomach dropped like a stone.

“You need discipline. Focus,” Sid continued on. “Your mother wanted me to give you time, and I did, but nothing’s stuck. It’s been a year since you graduated and it’s time to grow the fuck up. I won’t pay your way forever.”

“Sid,” Laura interjected, warning and largely unheard by either of them.

“I work,” Johnny defended slowly, thoughts jumbling. Sid snorted.

“Yeah, mowing lawns with the spics, you call that a career? It’s time to quit pussyfooting around and get your shit together, Johnny.”

“But I - ” Sid barreled through his objections, just like he always did.

“The number for the recruiter is in that file and you’re gonna call and set up an interview. He’s expecting to hear from you. Your lease is up in August, but I’ve already talked to the complex about that. They’re willing to extend month-to-month as long as necessary until you ship off to basic. And you _will_ call the recruiter. Or else I’ll do it for you, and drag you there kicking and screaming,” he finished, viciously shoveling a bite of potatoes into his mouth. “And don’t even think about purposely bombing out. I’ve already talked to him about your attitude and he knows exactly what to expect.”

“Sid!” Laura burst out. “This is not how we talked about -”

“Screw your soft approach, Laura!” he spat, turning to her. “See how well it’s worked out so far? The money I sank into karate alone, only for it to end up a bust, just like everything else he’s tried! He’ll take the interview and call it payment for services rendered!”

Johnny was fairly shaking with rage. What gave him the right…?

“Do I even get a say in this?” He demanded forcefully, thankfully keeping the trembling from reaching his voice. “I’m eighteen! I’m legal! You _can’t_ just force me to join the fucking military!”

Sid raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t I? Don’t forget you’re living your cushy little life on my dime, and it can all be over with one snap of my fingers if I say so.”

“Then end it,” Johnny spat. “I’ll find my own way. But I won’t be - I won’t be blackmailed into signing away two years of my life just because you say so!”

“Four, actually. Six if you really want to make a commitment,” Sid retorted with an ugly grin. “And where do you think you’re gonna go, boy? You want your mother to see you rotting in some crack den in Reseda? Because that’s all you’ll be able to manage on your own with what you’ve got going for yourself.”

Johnny wanted to retort that he’d rather rub elbows with hookers and junkies any night of the week over participating in this charade, but his mother was looking at him with wide, blue, beseeching eyes.

“Johnny,” she pleaded softly. “Johnny, maybe you should just...give it some thought. This isn’t how I wanted to bring it up to you,” she said, her voice distinctly hard in a way he hadn’t heard in years, “but it might not turn out to be such an awful idea.”

Betrayed, he snapped his mouth shut. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Her family were all a bunch of broke, pacifist hippies who’d sooner set themselves on fire like the monks in Vietnam than shave their heads and join the service, and she’d carried that conviction herself for years.

So to have her do a total 180 on this was just...

“Well I guess you’ve all just decided for me, yeah?” Johnny said thickly. “Fuck _both_ of you, then, because I’m not fucking doing it.” He stood up, pushing the chair out with a screech, leaving the file scattered on the table. He marched toward the front door, resisting the urge to sprint. “I’d sooner live under a goddamn bridge.”

“Well get packing, then, because the gravy train’s on its last stop, you little shit.” His stepfather was hot on his heels following him toward the door.

“Sid!”

“Shut up, Laura.” He was red in the face, and Johnny fervently wished he’d just have a heart attack right then and there and put him out of his misery for good. “This ungrateful prick drives around in a car that I bought and sleeps under a roof that I pay for, and he’s gonna go to that interview if it’s the last thing his worthless ass does.” He shoved the file into Johnny’s chest, and Johnny flung it right back at him, papers scattering through the foyer.

“Over my dead body,” Johnny bit out, turning on his heel and slamming the door behind him, ignoring the muffled shout of “Maybe that can be arranged!” and Laura’s countering shriek of irritation.

His hands were shaking so hard that he only just got the key into the ignition, and he barely made it down the driveway and onto the street before he had to pull over, barely able to see, beating his hands on the steering wheel and bellowing out his fury.

“Stupid...fucking...asshole!” He raged, punctuating each word with a slam. “Who the fuck does he think he is?”

He’d known it was gonna be bad, but he hadn’t known it would be this bad. The fucking Air Force. He really was looking to ship Johnny as far out of his sight as he could get him.

And his mom...Johnny pressed a fist to his mouth and counted down from ten. That was something he couldn’t even think about right at this moment.

Slightly more controlled now, immediate rage exorcised, he clenched both hands around the steering wheel and rigidly drove back home. Even just the thought of the apartment now was enough to reignite his resentment, the four walls doing little to help him forget Sid and everything he was holding over his head, and he briefly considered bypassing it entirely to head straight for a twin bed in Canoga Park. But what would he say?

He should’ve known he wouldn’t be allowed to be happy for long. It was like a fucking rule now: for every nice thing that happened to Johnny, something ten times shittier had to occur to balance the scales.

He thought about calling Daniel. All he wanted was to let the comforting sound of the other boy’s voice wash over him, surprisingly deep and soothing, but it was late and, again, _what would he even say_? And how could he be sure Daniel wouldn’t start freaking out about the whole thing, too? Johnny was barely handling his own shit at the moment.

Staring at the phone indecisively, he finally noticed the blinking of the answering machine. Apparently he had a message. Stumped and already regretting setting the hunk of plastic up, he stabbed the play button.

_“Hey, Johnny, it’s Bobby. When the hell did you get a machine? I thought you hated them. Anyway, you gotta give me a call back - Dutch is getting sprung from juvie on Friday and he needs someone to pick him up. You know I’d do it myself, but Jenny’s parents are having this thing for her brother’s wedding and she’ll kill me if I skip. I didn’t know who else to call, so just get back to me soon as you can. Talk to you later, man.”_

The message ended with a beep. Johnny’s head dropped into his hands.

This week just kept getting better and better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter might take a smidge longer - it is thoroughly outlined, as is the remainder of the story (and I really think I’m gonna stick to it now!) but the prose is...not there. chapter count also may go up a hair. meep. thanks, friends.


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